


Edge

by Mazarin221b



Series: Florentine [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: BDSM AU, Bloodplay, Boys actually communicating, Knifeplay, M/M, RACK - Freeform, Risky BDSM, The fic I refer to as Florentine Dark, tiniest hint of foot fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-02 05:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17258099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: Yuuri rubs his forehead. He needs to get a grip on himself. Fantasies are just that, sometimes. Fantasies. And just because he has the ability to make them real doesn’t mean he should tell Victor every stupid thing that pops into his head. It’s a hard no, which is no.Isn’t it?Just how far can trust really go? Turns out, pretty far. Forever, in fact.(Set chronologically after Surrender. In chronological order, the Florentine series is: Florentine, Martinet, Deep, Plait, Surrender, and now Edge.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, some serious notes to start this out.
> 
> Knifeplay is in the realm of RACK - Risk Aware Consensual Kink. This is beyond safe, sane, consensual, this is getting into the realm of play that could seriously hurt or injure or even kill someone (Which happens - Victor's novel isn't just fantasy, real people have succumbed and been murdered by people posing as Doms). This is my plea to you: Do not use Florentine as a how-to manual for practicing kink. Do be aware if you practice that everything is consensual on ALL sides. Be fully aware of what you're doing and why, have full trust in the person you're with, hell, have monitors to keep things from going too far. Don't let anyone pressure you into doing things you're not into, or not ready for. Please. I beg you.
> 
> My darling beta/technical consultant team of AND and pursuitofnerdiness was on the case again this time, bless their darling souls. I love them and would never make it without them.

Victor’s skin throbs with heat, a fire that seems to sear him from the inside out. He twists his head and catches a sound, the small clink of metal on metal that registers right before a zipper line of pinpricks cascades from shoulder to spine and over the curve of his ass. He’s needy and shaking with exertion — Yuuri’s been at him for hours, and now the Wartenberg wheel rolling over his freshly flogged skin is torture so exquisite Victor feels he might stop breathing.

His master has been particularly cruel tonight; shackled to the cross and facing the wall, Victor has no idea what’s next, how long the torture being inflicted on him might last. His blindfold is soaked with sweat and he’s sure he stinks by now, but his Master doesn’t seem to mind as he leans forward and licks a wet trail up Victor’s neck to his ear, making Victor gasp aloud.  
“You’re so tempting, my beauty,” Yuuri says, voice low and his lips tickling the shell of Victor’s ear. “It’s all I can do to not fuck you right now.”

A full body shudder ripples over Victor’s skin. “Please,” he rasps. “Please, Sir, please, I want it…”

“Shhhh. Not yet. You know what I want first.”

Victor whines. He does know what Yuuri wants; that complete, devastating collapse that signals Yuuri's success at pushing him just past his limits. He’s slowly dying, his brain drowning in the well of sensation Yuuri has created, a sensory overload of pain that has him vibrating out of his skin with the need for something, anything, to break open and shatter the tension. He’s existed on the precipice of mind-blowing pleasure he knows will happen in the next moment; after the next blow, the next kiss, the next bite, but Yuuri’s not giving it to him. He’s waiting, ever patient, and Victor finally feels his chest crack open with sobs of sheer frustration, tears welling up in his eyes and streaming over his cheeks, wetting the edge of the blindfold and dripping down his face.

“I can’t, Sir, I can’t, god please, please let me come,” he hiccups. “I’ve been so good, Sir, I don’t know what else to do…” Victor rattles the restraints on his wrists, the tears flowing more freely now as he lets out the frustration and tension in long, choking sobs.

Yuuri places a soothing hand on his back and gently lifts the blindfold from Victor’s hot, wet skin. The playroom is dim, Victor realizes, all the lights off save for one amber-shaded lamp in the corner. He blinks a few times, trying to regain his sense of balance, and as he finally is able to focus Yuuri is there, right by his side, his expression pleased.

“That’s my good boy,” he croons, and Victor almost melts under the praise. He tries to sniffle back tears as Yuuri kisses his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips, before he unlocks one of Victor’s ankles and sinks to his knees.

The first touch of his mouth on Victor’s dick makes him scream, and the overwhelming ecstasy of orgasm at his master’s worshipful mouth makes him forget his own name.  
……………………………………………………………………………………….  
Yuuri has certainly gotten more creative since Victor moved to New York, Victor muses in the bath after. The simple fact Victor is the only one of his partners to ever stay over has brought out a side of Yuuri Victor really hadn’t been prepared for; their play now stretching into hours, Yuuri teasing and tormenting Victor, pushing to see just how long Victor’s stamina can hold before he turns into a sobbing, needy mess that Yuuri can put back together again.

Those sessions leave Victor strung out and exhausted, while at the same time drunk on pleasure and the primal satisfaction of being petted, being praised, and the pretty, whispered words from his exquisite master that Victor has pleased him.

Victor swirls his hands through the warm, scented bathwater. He does love pleasing Yuuri, but today has left him feeling jittery, unsettled. He can’t seem to shake the urge to cry, either, which is odd. He looks across the bathroom to where Yuuri is carefully washing his Wartenburg wheel in a sink full of soapy water. The muscles of his back gleam with sweat and his skin is as beautifully smooth as it always is, but even the sight of Yuuri bustling about his after-play routines isn’t setting Victor’s mind at ease. He must sigh or make some other kind of noise, because Yuuri glances over. What he sees in Victor’s face must tell the whole story because he’s at Victor’s side, sitting on the stool by the edge of the tub, in a heartbeat.

“You’re still not okay,” Yuuri says, and Victor nods, throat tight. “What can I do?”

Victor hesitates. He should be stronger than this. Everything they did tonight was consensual, even craved, wanted. They’ve reached a perfect state in their relationship, one that exists on a plane of trust and openness he’s never experienced before, and he’s hesitant to unbalance it. But he can hear Yuuri telling him a year ago to be honest, to talk to him if there’s something he doesn’t understand, and while Victor isn’t completely new to this life he’s still no expert, either.

“I still need to…” he starts, and watches Yuuri’s brow furrow in concern. “I don’t know how to…” he tries again, and the words catch behind a sob. Victor quickly covers his mouth with his hand and tries to control his breathing. Fuck, this isn’t at all what he wanted. Now what?

Yuuri quickly strips off his shorts and slides behind Victor in the bath. He wraps his arms around Victor’s chest and tucks his head over Victor’s shoulder, Victor’s head pressed back into the curve of his neck.

“It’s okay,” he says, quietly. “No matter what, I love you, and it’s okay.” He slips his fingers through Victor’s hair, a gentle pass over the top of his head, fingers swirling over his temple and back, until Victor takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets the tears flow unimpeded, Yuuri’s heartbeat strong in his ear.  
………………………………………………………………………………….

Victor wakes in the first blush of dawn, stretches, yawns, and assesses. He certainly feels better, more relaxed and fully present within himself. Yuuri had let him cry himself out last night until he was dry, then had taken him upstairs and smoothed lavender oil over his back with gentle and loving hands, massaged Victor’s aching muscles until Victor had sunk into sleep. He’s not entirely sure he’s moved since then, either, and Yuuri has curled himself around Victor’s sleeping body.

He still can smell the lavender on the sheets.

“Time to wake up,” Victor whispers into Yuuri’s hair. “We’ve got to be at the rink at nine.”

Yuuri stirs and wrinkles his nose before turning over and burrowing back under the sheets. “No,” he mumbles. “Tired.”

Victor sighs. “Don’t you get sick of being late?”

“No.”

“Well, I hate it, so get up.” Victor jumps out of bed and pulls Yuuri out of the bed by his feet, Yuuri flailing and screeching indignantly until Victor bullies him into the shower and out into the day. Yuuri is still pouting over his latte when Victor finally bumps into his shoulder as they walk.

“Yuuri. If you’d just get up I wouldn’t have to drag you.”

“I know. I just hate getting out of bed. I’d rather stay there with you all day. I just…” Yuuri pauses and takes a sip of his coffee and Victor waits patiently. He’ll get there; Victor knows by now that Yuuri usually takes a moment to decide how exactly to say what he means. “I never feel like I have enough of you,” he finishes, cheeks flushing a delicate pink.

Victor can feel that blush to the tips of his toes. “I feel the same way,” he ventures, then slips his hand over Yuuri’s ass and pinches him lightly. “I’d have you right now if I could.”

“No, not just like that!” Yuuri pokes Victor in the side, making him laugh. “Well, yes, of course like that. But more than that.” Yuuri turns his head and catches Victor’s eyes with an expression of such devotion it makes Victor’s heart stutter. “I just want all of you, all the time. Always. That’s all.”

Victor stops walking, the warm sunshine of New York beating down on his shoulders and Yuuri dropping a bombshell in the middle of Chelsea like it’s just another Tuesday.

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Yuuri teases, seemingly unaware of Victor’s heart fighting its way out of his chest. Victor catches up, mind absolutely scattered, repeating always on a loop until they duck into Sky Rink. He considers the possibility of _always_ , of living with Yuuri permanently, as Yuuri laces up and makes his way out of the locker room, as Victor warms up with some easy crossovers and Eulers, and as he and Yuuri help Yuuri’s oldest client, a 15 year old boy named Amare, work out his choreographic sequence. Victor is fully occupied by the possibilities floating through his mind when he almost collides with Yuuri as they skate toward the boards for a break. Victor quickly leans forward and hooks a hand over the edge to keep his balance, making his sore muscles twinge unpleasantly. He gasps.

“Are you okay?” Yuuri says, brow furrowed with concern. “You seem a bit distracted today. Are things...Are things better?” His voice drops to barely audible. “Did I push too hard?”

Victor recalls the night before, Yuuri’s concern taking full shape. Victor nods and smiles. He’s actually feeling quite well, Yuuri’s aftercare somehow always exactly what he needs. “No, not at all! Just thinking. I really am fine.”

 _Always._ A lifetime, in fact. Is he ready? Are _they_ ready?

Yuuri skates up close, until their hips touch where they stand side by side. Amare is on the other side of the rink, practicing some spins, and otherwise the rink is fairly deserted. Yuuri leans into Victor’s body and whispers in his ear, a move that never fails to give Victor goosebumps.

“Good. I’ve got a few ideas I’d like to try.” Yuuri winks, drags his teeth over his bottom lip and gives Victor a sly smile. “You’re just so pretty when you cry, my beauty.”

The hair on Victor’s neck rises and his knees get a bit weak.

 _Always._ God, yes.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I promise to be good next time, sir. Please, again?” Victor wiggles his ass and Yuuri can feel the power of his position slide down his spine, suffuse his entire being with raw need. Victor is here, is ready for him, is willing and soft and obedient, and Yuuri can feel himself teetering on the edge of a deep well of darkness he can see right at the edge of his vision._
> 
> _“I want...Victor, my beauty. I want to go harder. Can I?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Pursuitofnerdiness and AND provided excellent beta and technical consultation. Love them so much.

 

Yuuri watches Victor’s neck bend slightly as he pokes his salad around on his plate, his shirt collar slipping ever so slightly and showing Yuuri the edge of a love bite he left there last week. He didn’t break the skin, but it was a near thing, and if Yuuri looks carefully he can see the deeper lines left by his teeth.

_Blood is on the hard no list._

He knows it is. He has an absolutely crystal clear memory of Victor’s limits list, and blood is right there on the “no” side with a whole lot of other things.

It is not, however, on Yuuri’s list. It’s on his soft limits list, which always gave him the option to decide in the moment. And what he wants, in this moment, is what he saw a month ago, a bright red drop welling up on Victor’s flushed and sweaty skin, inadvertent, but a testament to just how deep his trust in Yuuri really is.

Deeper than Yuuri had ever hoped for. And Victor’s post-play breakdown in the bathtub last night reminds Yuuri that he’d better be careful before he pushes that trust too far.

Yuuri rubs his forehead. He needs to get a grip on himself. Fantasies are just that, sometimes. Fantasies. And just because he has the ability to make them real doesn’t mean he should tell Victor every stupid thing that pops into his head. It’s a hard no, which is no.

Isn’t it?

“Are you okay?” Victor’s voice breaks into his thoughts. “You’ve been holding that bite on your fork for like, three minutes. Is it bad?”

Yuuri looks at the forkful of quinoa and chicken. “Oh! No, sorry, I was just thinking. And it’s. Ah. Not awesome?”

“You don’t like quinoa. You keep trying and I don’t know why. Anyway. Amare’s step sequence is coming along, don’t you think? We just need to get him to really _feel_ the music, _embrace_ it like…”

Victor continues on and Yuuri nods in all the appropriate places as he tries to choke down another attempt at quinoa. Victor is so beautiful like this, his entire face lighting up as he talks about skating, as he breaks down the different sequences that Amare needs to make a good run at Junior Grand Prix this year, which is only a few weeks from now. He loves this, he loves all of it. Their skating together, their lives, their love. Everything. He’d be a fool to try to change it now.

But as Victor waves his fork around in an uncanny impression of a triple sal, Yuuri catches a glimpse again of his lovebite, vivid and blood-dark against his skin, and he can’t help but wonder.  
………………………………………………

“Yuuri! I’m not going to be able to finish this if you don’t let go!” Victor giggles and half-heartedly swats at Yuuri’s hands wrapped around his waist.

Yuuri growls and buries his face in Victor’s neck and licks a stripe up his smooth, soft skin. Mmmm. Delicious. “You think I care about dishes when you’ve been bending over and wiggling your ass at me the last fifteen minutes? I’m not stupid, Victor. I know you know the baking sheets don’t go in the cabinet next to the fridge.”

Victor tilts his head to the side, allowing Yuuri full access to his neck, and Yuuri takes advantage immediately, nibbling delicately over the skin while he insinuates his fingers under the waistband of Victor’s pants.

Victor immediately jumps away, darts across the kitchen, and turns back with a coy smile. “If you want it, come and get it, sir,” he says, and bends so he’s leaning on his elbows on the countertop. He arches his back so his ass pops, and Yuuri can feel himself almost salivating, his heart skittering in his chest. Every time Victor initiates their play like this Yuuri almost swoons at the affirmation that yes, he’s in this just as deep as Yuuri is. He sucks in a breath and can feel his entire body shiver as his mind slips slightly sideways, into his position as Dominant to a beautiful, perfect, wonderful submissive man who is, it seems, craving a bit of discipline.

“You’d better not let me catch you, my beauty,” he warns, and slowly stalks toward Victor. Whether or not Victor lets himself be caught is going to show Yuuri how he wants this to play out, and as Yuuri approaches, Victor smiles, flirtatious, and darts across the kitchen, on the other side of the kitchen island. Ah, okay. Yuuri knows what he wants now. Someone wants to be punished - not punished in a bad way, but in a wonderful, sexy, perfect way that Yuuri can certainly deliver.

“The harder you make this, the worse it’s going to be for you,” he says, and Victor smirks.

“You have to catch me first,” he says, and circles the island, keeping it between Yuuri and himself. Yuuri feints left and Victor goes around, but just as Victor commits to one direction Yuuri cuts back around and surprises him, snatching him around the wrists.

“Oh!” he says, then “Damn, I can’t believe I fell for that.” He pretends to pout, but Yuuri knows better.

Yuuri kisses him, hard. “You’ve got five minutes. Naked, under the hoist, and I want your collar on. Understood?”

Victor shivers. “Yeah,” he says, dreamily, then, before Yuuri can correct him, he adds “Sir, yes. Okay.” He strips his shirt off as he darts through the swinging door that separates the kitchen from the tiny hall and through that to the door under the stairs, and Yuuri looks at the kitchen clock and waits the five minutes he promised. He practically skips down the stairs with a light heart, only to find Victor kneeling outside the door on the small black cushion they’ve put next to the door.

The place Victor waits when the playroom is in use.

_Damn._

“I’m sorry, my beauty. I didn’t check.” Yuuri places his hand on Victor’s head and Victor nuzzles into his thigh. He’s still in the mood, surprisingly enough, which is what the cushion is for. He can break the scene entirely if Yuuri sends him downstairs and Phichit is busy inside, simply by coming back upstairs. But if he still wants to play, he kneels on the cushion and waits.

“I did look through the peephole,” Victor says. “It was open. They’re just. Ah. I don’t know honestly but they’re doing it.”

Yuuri snickers. God knows what they are up to. But it’s his fault for not checking his texts to be sure Phichit and Chris hadn’t claimed the playroom first, and they did at least leave the small peephole from the hallway unlocked so Yuuri could check and see if he could slip in and grab things from his cabinet. If the peephole was locked it was a no-go situation no matter what.

Seriously, though. He’s got a hot and willing Victor ready for some discipline, and now he’s going to have to improvise something in his bedroom, which means running up and down two sets of stairs and killing whatever mood might be left. What a pain in the ass.

Victor blinks up at him, eyes wide and pleading, and Yuuri pets him for a moment before knocking on the door. Phichit cracks it open and pokes his head out. His hair is ruffled and he’s got...something...wet and gleaming across his mouth. Yuuri tries not to think about it.

“Yeah,” Phichit says. “It’s not the best…”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says quickly. “The peephole was open and I really just need a flogger. The black one, the heavy one.”

“Got it.” The door closes and within a minute pops back open, and Phichit hands the flogger through. Phichit turns back and the door swings open just enough that Yuuri can see Chris, locked sideways into a frame and covered in…

“What the fuck?” Yuuri says.

“Will explain later, bye!” Phichit slams the door, and Yuuri and Victor just blink at each other, before bursting out laughing.

……………………………………………………………………………………...

“Oh god, sir, yes,” Victor moans, face in a pillow, wrists tied to Yuuri’s bedposts and ass in the air, nice and red. Yuuri swings the flogger again, drops a very heavy hit across his skin and Victor yelps. God, he looks amazing like this. Even in an improvised scene, he still sinks into compliance so beautifully, his back arched and body willing.

“You’ve been so naughty, haven’t you?” Yuuri says, running his hand over the warm skin of Victor’s ass. “Trying to get me worked up. You need this, don’t you?”

“I promise to be good next time, sir. Please, again?” Victor wiggles his ass and Yuuri can feel the power of his position slide down his spine, suffuse his entire being with raw need. Victor is here, is ready for him, is willing and soft and obedient, and Yuuri can feel himself teetering on the edge of a deep well of darkness he can see right at the edge of his vision.

“I want...Victor, my beauty. I want to go harder. Can I?”

Victor nods, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Yuuri snatches the long, thin ruler from his desk, weighs it, and decides against it. That’s not what he wants, not impact. No. He wants, he wants…

Yuuri climbs behind Victor on the bed and shoves his body flat to the mattress before he swings a leg over and sits right behind Victor’s ass, on the backs of his thighs. The bed creaks as he slips off his shirt and drops it over the side of the bed, and Victor tilts his head to the side.

“What do you need, sir? What do you want?”

_Oh god._ Yuuri looks at the beautiful, unbroken expanse of Victor’s back, spotted here and there with little freckles. Yuuri reaches up and sets his fingers into that gorgeous skin and rakes his nails right down Victor’s back, ten raised lines of livid white on red.

Victor arches and swears, almost bucking Yuuri off. “Sir?” he cries, and the confusion in his voice makes Yuuri cringe.

“Color?” He snaps, terrified of what he’s just done, what he allowed himself to do. The skin isn’t broken, but Yuuri is absolutely sure he wanted it to be.

“Yellow,” Victor says. “You?”

“Same. Wait.” Yuuri breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, Victor still pinned under him. God, the feel of Victor’s skin under his fingers, the marks that he left clear and real. He’s marked Victor up plenty of times before but not quite like this, and the shock of it has to be making Victor’s head spin, especially right after a flogging.

“Are you with me, my beauty?” Yuuri asks. “That was a bit more intense than I was intending.”

“I’m okay. Just surprised. Am I bleeding?”

“No. No blood. You said no blood, I know that.”

“Yeah, okay, I just...I didn’t want it on the sheets, it’s…”

Yuuri sighs. “Clarity,” he says, his own safeword, and leans forward to untie Victor’s wrists. Victor slides out from under him and sits up against the headboard, shifting until he shoves a pillow behind his back. Yuuri squirms, uncomfortable. He’s made Victor sore and tender plenty of times, watched in satisfaction as Victor tried to sit comfortably on a bruised ass. But he’s watching Victor move now and he feels hollow inside, and he wonders what he’s done.

Victor studies him carefully. “What happened?” he asks. “Do you need to talk about it?”

Yuuri slides down to the bottom of the bed and sits facing him, legs folded. They’re not touching and Victor is still naked, and Yuuri needs to focus.

“I just. I don’t know. I felt the need to…” _Don’t say hurt, don’t say cut, don’t say damage._ “...I just needed to mark you. I think. I’m still figuring it out. I should have asked first. I usually ask. I didn’t think I’d leave marks quite like that, though. More than you were expecting for being naughty, I bet.”

“Uh, yeah,” Victor replies. “I figured I’d get a good flogging. What were you planning when we went downstairs? What were you looking for?”

“That, basically. Tie your wrists and hang you from the hoist. I wanted to flog you down, make you beg for it. Fuck you on your knees, on the floor. That’s all I had in mind.”

“But something tripped you over into marking. Was it something I did?”

Yuuri’s head is spinning. He’s done this three times now. What was the saying? Once was random, twice a coincidence, three times a pattern? How could he possibly want to really hurt Victor like this, hurt him in a very real, possibly very permanent, definitely very dangerous way? He wants to see that tiny line of blood glimmer in the light, to watch as it darkens and dries and leaves a permanent imprint. He knows all the rules, understands the line between safe, sane, and consensual and ...not that, very well indeed.

_But you’ve played with knives_ , a tiny voice whispers. _You’ve marked people before who wanted you to, and you liked it._

_And promptly told myself to stop being such a fucking freak,_ he responds.

“Yuuri,” Victor demands, and Yuuri realizes he’s been talking to himself for a while. He’s got to get a hold of himself, for himself, and for Victor.

Yuuri scrubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to sort it out. But I won’t ever do that again. I swear. Nothing with my hands but spanking, and nothing heavier than the suede flogger, until I figure this out. No suspension, no blindfolds, no sensory dep. Nothing like that. Okay?”

Victor nods, but the little line between his eyebrows has appeared. He flexes his fingers, and Yuuri watches as he crawls over to Yuuri and settles himself in Yuuri’s lap. He places his hands on Yuuri’s cheeks and looks him deep in the eyes, and Yuuri swallows quickly, emotion welling up in his chest.

“Yuuri Katsuki, I love you. I love this,” Victor gestures between them. “I will do and be and give you whatever you want. If you need time then I will give you all the time in the world. But please know that I’m here, forever. For always. Okay?”

_Always,_ Yuuri repeats in his mind. He said that to Victor the other day, didn’t he? _Always_. And if Victor is offering always, then Yuuri needs to be worthy of it. To be the man Victor needs him to be: controlled, masterful, demanding, and loving.

He tips forward and carries Victor down to the bed, settling between his thighs and kissing him breathless. Victor’s arms wrap around Yuuri’s back in a firm, squeezing hug, and Yuuri melts into the comfort of it.

He’ll fix this. He has to.

………………………………………………………...

Yuuri stashes his ropes in the drawer and carefully draws his fingertips over the wooden case at the back. No, he sternly reminds himself. “Seriously Phichit, what the fuck were you pouring all over him? Were you doing an art installation or what?”

Phichit laughs and continues mopping the floor. “Yeah, kind of? It was just some tempera paint, you know, the kind that little kids can use. Non-toxic. I wanted to see the pattern on the paper underneath, when I’d pour it over parts of his body. Kind of an imprint. He was game for it, anyway.”

“He’s game for anything,” Yuuri points out. “I’m surprised he’s not tried vore of some kind.”

Phichit wiggles his eyebrows. “Who says he hasn’t?”

Yuuri goes into a full body cringe. “Oh god, don’t, shut up, I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Well, you guys damn near ruined the experiment, he twitched when you knocked on the door.”

“Sorry, it was kind of impromptu, Victor needed some discipline.”

Phichit wrings the mop out in the bucket and scrutinizes the floor. “You know, Yuuri, this playroom just ain’t big enough for the four of us.”

Yuuri’s heart drops. “Are...are you kicking me out?”

Phichit shoves the mop in the bucket and comes over to put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “What? No! This is our space, yours and mine. But. I don’t know. It’s hard sometimes, to share when we’ve got four of us here all the time, now.”

“Yeah. I thought we were doing okay. We’ve only had a few conflicts the last few months. Maybe we could come up with a better way?”

“I’d like to avoid a signout board like a dorm laundry, though.”

Yuuri nods. “Yeah. Kills the mood some. We should sit down, all of us, and figure out a better way to keep from stepping on each others’ toes. Oh, speaking of the four of us, what did Chris say when you asked him about a little shared time?”

Phichit laughs. “He said, and I quote, ‘The last time I had any direct sexual experience with Victor Nikiforov I was teaching him to suck dick at Euros 2010.’ So, you know. He’s considering it.”

“They’ve never slept together?” Yuuri finds that fascinating and somehow odd. He assumed they had, at least once. The fact this assumption apparently doesn’t bother him is something he doesn’t want to examine too closely at the moment.

“Nope.” Phichit grabs the bucket and starts for the bathroom. “I didn’t ask why and he didn’t offer. It’s probably why they’ve been friends for so long, though.”

“We’ve fucked and we’re still friends.”

“Yeah, well, we’re a couple of freaks though.” Phichit slaps Yuuri’s ass on the way by, a playful gesture with absolutely no further intent behind it. “Anyway. I’ll let you know when he’s decided.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says. “Hey, um. Can I talk to you about something else?”

Phichit stops and turns around. “This sounds like an actual conversation. Should we sit on the sofa?”

Yuuri sighs in relief. “Yeah. Thanks.” He and Phichit take up positions on either end, facing each other, and Yuuri struggles to even look at Phichit’s expectant face. “I. Um. The last few weeks I’ve been having these fantasies,” he starts, and looks up. Phichit nods, but doesn’t say anything. “Okay. So. I’ve been...wantingtoreallyhurtVictor,” he says all at once, rushed, as if he says it fast enough it’s not an actual admission.

“Okay,” Phichit says. “I take it this is not your normal kind of hurt. Like, what kind? Do you want him to be a pain slut?”

“No!” Yurri screeches, and then slaps his hands over his mouth. “No! It’s more...the blood,” he mumbles. “Well not even really the blood as much as…”

“Trust.” Phichit finishes. “Man, Yuuri, you have some issues. I take it blood and such is on his hard no list?”

“Exactly! And I’m afraid it’s more like possession. In a really...not good way. Besides, a hard no is a hard no.”

“You and I both know that doesn’t mean you can’t bring it up and ask.”

“I know. But it sounds so scary. I sound like a total freak.”

Phichit laughs. “Yuuri, the double-edged throwing knife isn’t what’s going to scare him. I think it’s the fact you might not fuck him after.”

Yuuri laughs, and he feels a lot lighter. This is true - Victor has never been afraid. Confused, sometimes, or occasionally bemused, but never afraid. “When have I ever been that cruel?”

“Oh, only constantly.”

“Peach,” Yuuri whines. “I’m being serious!”

“So am I. And you want a pain slut.”

“I don’t!”

“Pain slut, pain slut!” Phichit sing-songs.

Yuuri dives forward to punch him in the thigh. “Stop saying pain slut!” Phichit screeches and falls off the sofa, laughing, as Yuuri keeps kicking at him. Phichit’s mirth is infectious, though, and Yuuri can feel his worries melt, the tension he’d been carrying slide from his shoulders. Phichit really is the best friend he could have. Clear-eyed and practical, and always with the best advice. Yuuri is honestly one of the luckiest people on the planet, with friends like him and Chris, and a love like Victor’s.

“You doing okay now?” Phichit asks, standing up. “I’m gonna finish up. Just talk to him. You know that’s a thing, you’ve even tried it a few times.”

“Yes, I will. Thank you. I...just needed to get it out, I think.” Yuuri stands up and gives Phichit a quick hug and lets him bustle off to the bathroom to deal with...whatever is left of the paint in there.

Yuuri sighs and glances around the playroom, his and Phichit’s work of the last five years. He loves this space, loves what he’s experienced in it. It’s part of his life, part of his psyche. It’s his domain, his and Phichit’s, and their word, in this room, is law.

He can’t lose it. He can’t lose Victor, either. But thinking back to the earlier part of their conversation, the idea of having a space that he and Victor could use any time they wanted...that’s incredibly appealing. And he knows if he just talks to Victor like a goddamn adult, things will be fine. Victor might say no. He might never want him to bring it up again. But that’s okay.

He shakes his head. Victor isn’t going anywhere, and the playroom is his. This is stupid, and he’s working himself up over nothing.

He finishes tidying up the benches, turns off the lights, and goes upstairs.

……………………………………………………………………………...

7:08 PM

  
_I got an invitation to the opening of a club in a couple of weeks. They’re asking me to demo._  
_Your thoughts?_

7:10 PM - Victor

_Um. In public? I’m not sure I can really do that._

7:11 PM

_Yes, I knew you’d worry about that. They’re offering a free membership for a year if I do it, though. It would be a flogging technique, no sex, obviously. What would you think if I used a volunteer? This club could be really fun for us, I think. I won’t do it if you don’t want me to though. I love you._

7:12 PM - Victor

_Absolutely not. I will do it if I can be disguised somehow._

Yuuri pauses. He knew it would be risky to ask Victor to demo in public, and he had no intention of ever touching anyone ever again other than Victor, but while he can do this particular demonstration without a partner, it is much more clear if he can show the crowd just how to modulate the strength of the blows and their effect on a person. Victor will do it if he can be disguised, he says, so…

Yuuri’s eye lands on a small box sitting on the corner of his dresser. It’s not moved in the year since he reverently put it there, testament to the night he really decided Victor needed to be his. He opens the lid and glances inside, the gold and white mask as pretty and bright as it was when Yuuri tied it over Victor’s face a year ago.

7:20 PM

_I have just the thing, my beauty._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [. Yuuri's heavier flogger. They made Yuuri's studded leather flogger, too. ](https://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/Genuine-Cow-Hide-Thick-Leather-Flogger-100-Tails-Heavy-Thuddy-impact-Whip/183296577796?epid=2193451638&hash=item2aad53d104:g:MeUAAOSwsJ1bNdtt)He likes them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes,” he chokes out, then bends down, the chains over his arm chiming softly as he presses his cheek to Yuuri’s ankle, then slides up his calf and behind his knee before Victor carefully works himself around on his knees until he can reach the front of Yuuri’s thigh and that tempting strip of bare skin right over the cuff of the boot and below the edge of his shorts.
> 
> “You’re mine,” he growls against Yuuri’s skin.
> 
> “Oh Victor,” Yuuri coos, “You know I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting into it now, kids. 
> 
> Again, the wonderful combination of pursuitofnerdiness and AND were my crack beta team.

 

Victor stares at his phone, willing the butterflies in his stomach to stop their incessant fluttering.

Yuuri doesn’t mean anything by asking if he could use a volunteer to demo, Victor knows this. But the idea of another person arching his back at the kiss of Yuuri’s - of his - flogger? Oh, no. That’s not going to happen. Victor chews on his thumb and lets himself get good and worked up at the thought of it, of marching into the middle of the demo and pushing whomever is submitting to Yuuri’s touch right out of the way and onto the floor and placing himself there instead, letting the whole world know that Yuuri Katsuki is his master, his Dom, and only he was good enough to submit to him. He wears Yuuri’s collar and no one else ever has, or ever will.

Victor rolls his eyes at himself. Drama queen. Yuuri already told him that he had an idea of how to disguise Victor for the demo so he could do it himself. He’s been to a few more parties since he and Yuuri got together but nothing so public as this club, so he’s going to have to trust that Yuuri knows exactly what he’s doing. And if he does, well. Victor really would love to let the world know that Yuuri was his, and this is certainly going to go a long way toward that.

But what else could he do?

He glances up in the mirror over his dresser, at the smooth expanse of skin revealed by his vee neck shirt. The phantom weight of his collar is vivid in his imagination, the gleaming gold circlet a shining promise wrapped around his throat.

_Oh._

Yes. Perfect.  
…………………………………………………

Still, even knowing that he’s ready to make a lifelong commitment to Yuuri in the most public way he can, the call he gets from Chris, half a world away in his apartment in Switzerland, is still a bit of a shock.

“So, you know that apartment in Greenwich, the one I told you that Phichit and I kept joking about buying?”

Victor swallows. “Yeah?”

“It’s for sale. I think I might buy it. And by me, maybe I mean we.”

Victor almost drops the phone. “You and Phichit? Like, you both?”

“Yes, us both, who else? It was always kind of a joke, you know? Because we loved the building so much, and then...there it was. Phichit was a bit freaked out to tell me when he saw the sign.”

Victor tries to process this information as quickly as possible. If there’s no Phichit living in Yuuri’s house, that means… “What about a playroom?”

“It’s got a huge study. The whole place has twelve foot ceilings, it’ll be fantastic. Sort of steampunk, with the brick walls and such. But for God’s sake, don’t say anything to Yuuri yet. We’re still figuring out how to pay for it, and ask Yuuri if he’d buy Phichit out of his half of the townhouse. If he even can. Otherwise we might be able to sell it to someone else. Who wants half of a townhouse, you know? Oh, Vitya my love, there’s so much to figure out.” Chris lets out a long, gusty sigh on the other end of the line.

This is it, this is their opportunity. Victor’s stomach feels like it’s flipping inside out. “Ah. Chris, about that. What if, um. What if I buy out Phichit’s half?”

“Would you really?” Chris sounds absolutely delighted. “How absolutely perfect would that be?” Victor rolls his eyes, because Chris sounds perhaps a bit too delighted. Dear god, they’re conspiring against him and always is coming much faster than Victor had prepared for.

“Did you plan this?”

A theatrical gasp. “Moi? How dare you suggest such a thing? Phichit saw the listing and we perhaps had a chat about how things might work out so beautifully if only you’d get your head out of your delightful ass and tell Yuuri you’d like to live with him.”

Victor sits down on the bed. “Have I been that obvious?” he asks.

“Victor, I’d bet my next royalty check you’ve not slept in your own bed more than two nights out of the last twenty. And besides, everything works out better that way, doesn’t it? But Yuuri, now, that’s another thing entirely.”

“He’s probably going to have a tiny meltdown,” Victor agrees. “I’ll ask him soon. I promise. Just don’t say anything, please. Tell Phichit that he needs to give me some time to ask before he tells Yuuri he’s moving out, okay? No matter what this is a big change and Yuuri’s not, uh. Great with change.”

“Tell me about it. While you’re at it, just get a ring on that boy’s finger, would you? I’d like to be in this wedding while I still look good in a tuxedo.”

Victor chokes and almost dies on the phone. Good god, he’d just thought of asking Yuuri to not just move in with him, but perhaps even to marry him, a day ago, how is Chris already reading his mind? What would it be like to surprise him for once? “Can't I please just focus on one thing at a time?” He pleads. “I’m...I’m thinking about it.”

“Hm. We’ll all be poochy and grey before you make any moves.”

“I will not!” Victor screeches. “I just need to find the right time is all.”

“Sooner rather than later, darling. He won't wait forever. Talk to you in a few days.”

“Okay. Bye.” Victor hangs up and lies back on his bed. He can see it now: waking up next to Yuuri every single day, making him breakfast, prodding him to run when he’s sleepy and doesn't like the cold. Playing in whatever room they choose, whenever they feel the urge. Maybe...maybe getting a dog, and Victor’s heart aches for his lovely Makka, gone for years but a hurt as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

Will Yuuri want that, though?

He had been very possessive lately, obviously driving himself toward some kind of question or action that Victor hadn’t yet been able to figure out. Was this it? Was he feeling the same way? Perhaps Phichit had hinted that it was time they consider splitting the house? Victor taps his phone thoughtfully against his chin. It's entirely possible that Yuuri had come to the same conclusion that Victor had, that they belong together - permanently, forever, always - and hadn’t worked up the courage to ask, and instead is working that out on Victor's body.

Well. Victor will find a way to ask himself, and in such a way Yuuri won’t even consider saying no. He tips his head back and stretches luxuriously, feeling every muscle in his body as they bend and flex into a position Yuuri favors: back arched, knees spread, wrists crossed over his head. The craving for his collar comes back stronger than before, the phantom edge of Yuuri’s teeth set into his shoulder rippling over his body, and he shivers at the thought of how a bright gold ring might feel on Yuuri’s finger as he strokes Victor’s cock.

………………………………………………….

“Yuuri, we’re going to be late!” Victor calls through the bathroom door, and grumbles under his breath. Yuuri always demands punctuality from him but god forbid he practice it himself. Projection, thy name is Yuuri Katsuki.

“Just a minute!”

Victor sighs and looks into the cheval mirror stashed behind the lounge and straightens his mask. Gold winged eyeliner is visible behind it, highlighted by a gold body chain draped over his right shoulder and arm. He's wearing white pants again, but this time his own Versace with gold zippers. Yuuri had sprayed his hair with some soft blue color so it looks just enough not like his own to throw people off. His collar is perfect, no smudges or smears, and Victor smiles at himself and preens. Yuuri does so love to play dress up with him, and he’s perfectly content to let him when the results are this good.

The bathroom door clicks open, and over his shoulder Victor sees Yuuri step into the playroom. Victor turns to tease him about being late once again, but as soon as he sees Yuuri’s outfit he falls to his knees, unbidden.

Yuuri. God, no, his master. _His_. Clad in thigh-high black patent spike-heeled boots, tight black booty shorts, and a long, lace jacket that just barely brushes the floor. His hair is pushed back over his forehead and dotted with tiny crystals. His eyeliner could kill a man. Victor’s fairly sure he’s already dead.

He clutches his chest and tries to protect himself against Yuuri’s sly, dangerous smile. Yuuri’s played around with his gender presentation plenty of times but he’s never been quite this feminine, or this deadly. Victor feels like he can’t breathe, and can only hope to live up to the absolute perfection he sees in front of him. He places his hands on his thighs and swallows before bowing his head.

“Sir,” he whispers, and he watches the tops of Yuuri’s boots as he clicks across the playroom to stand in front of Victor, one hand on his shoulder.

“You look exquisite, my beauty,” Yuuri says, then tips Victor’s head up to look at him, eyes dark and amused. “I thought perhaps I’d try something different for myself. What do you think?” Yuuri steps back and twirls, and Victor reaches forward to run his hands up the back of Yuuri’s legs, slipping along black patent leather and gathering the lace skirt of the jacket as he goes until he gets his hands on that gorgeous ass and squeezes. One of these days he’s going to just bend Yuuri over and fuck him senseless. One day when he's sure he won't get his ass beat for trying.

Yuuri looks over his shoulder and smirks. “That good, is it?” he says.

Victor hastily wipes the drool that has collected at the corner of his mouth. His cock is already hard, straining against his pants, and Victor _wants_. He can see it now, throngs of people in a club made for those with tastes like theirs, all staring at his beautiful master and wanting him for their own, and Victor suddenly feels viciously, meanly, hideously jealous. “Yes,” he chokes out, then bends down, the chains over his arm chiming softly as he presses his cheek to Yuuri’s ankle, then slides up his calf and behind his knee before Victor carefully works himself around on his knees until he can reach the front of Yuuri’s thigh and that tempting strip of bare skin right over the cuff of the boot and below the edge of his shorts.

“You’re mine,” he growls against Yuuri’s skin.

“Oh Victor,” Yuuri coos, “You know I am.” He crouches down until they’re face to face. The backs of his fingers brush Victor's skin as he slips his fingers under Victor’s collar and tugs until Victor leans forward and accepts his master’s kiss, along with a sharp little nip to his bottom lip. Victor relishes it and chases the taste of Yuuri’s lips with his tongue, relieved. He knows he's going to have to keep his jealous streak in check, because the last thing he’d ever want to do is embarrass his master in public. Just the thought of it leaves him twitchy with anxiety and fear, so he takes a deep breath and allows Yuuri to take his hand and lead him upstairs to where the car is waiting.

…………………………………………………………………..

“How are you feeling?” Yuuri asks as the car pulls up to the club, stashed in a little corner of a squat brick warehouse just on the edge of what Yuuri tells him is Hell’s Kitchen.

“Hell’s Kitchen, how fitting,” Victor murmurs as they climb out of the car. “Anyway, I’m fine, sir, thank you.” Victor can feel the urge to perform tugging on his hind brain, a desire to be the center of attention that has underpinned his entire career and pushed him to be who he was, who he still is. He can admit it. His ego is healthy and that hasn’t changed since his retirement. Add to that a bit of a public sex kink, and, well.

There was no way on this Earth Victor was going to say no to doing a demo with Yuuri, honestly, even if he’d done it barefaced and streamed on Instagram live.

He straightens his bodychain and waits for Yuuri to speak to the bouncer. He expected there to be a bit more of a crowd waiting to get in, until he steps through the door and realizes that’s because the line is _inside_ , where curious passers-by can’t ogle the patrons. The darkness of the waiting hall throbs with low, pulsing music and Victor loftily ignores the envious looks of the crowd as Yuuri finishes speaking with the bouncer and they’re directed past the line and inside.

Victor steps through the second, inner door and is astonished. He's been in clubs all over the world, places classier and more high brow, but this is something even he had never seen.

The space is huge, much bigger than he’d expected from the outside, and it looks a whole lot like a dark, blue-lit dance club on one side and on the other…

“Wow,” he says, ogling all the people tucked in various alcoves and booths, submissives kneeling by their master’s feet, some serving as benches, some doms on the prowl, some with their subs on a leash. Victor needs to stop staring like a noob and keep up with Yuuri, who is striding through the crowd with his usual confident gait. The skirt of his jacket swirls around his legs as he moves, the club lights sparkling off of the crystals in his hair. He's a mysterious, delicate moving shadow, gliding through the crowd, leaving everyone in his wake stunned at his beauty. Victor hurries to keep up with him, takes note of every person who gives Yuuri an admiring glance or a leer, and practices looking as fierce as possible while also being very obviously under Yuuri’s control.

They’re directed to a large room in the back, behind the bar, that their guide calls a green room, a place that he and Yuuri can relax and keep their things as they wait for their turn to demo. It’s a comfortable space, warmly lit and full of couches and chairs and, in deference to their clientele, a few soft mats on the floor. Yuuri chooses a corner with a nice squashy chair and kicks over a mat next to it.

“Kneel,” he says shortly, and Victor realizes Yuuri’s a bit nervous as he sits in the chair and starts to unpack the floggers and cuffs that they brought with them. Victor kneels and leans against Yuuri’s leg, offering as much wordless comfort as he can without getting in his way.

“This is ridiculous, I’ve done this dozens of times,” Yuuri says, and sighs before placing a hand on Victor’s head. “I don’t mean to ignore you, my beauty, I’m sorry. I just want this to go well, and I don’t want anything to compromise you.”

“I’m not at all worried about that, sir,” Victor says quietly. “I just want to be good for you.”

Yuuri leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Victor’s mouth. “You will be. I don’t doubt that at all.”

Victor watches Yuuri’s eyes as he glances all over Victor’s face, his body. He knows Yuuri is assessing him, watching his body language and his tells, and has probably forgotten that Victor knows a few of Yuuri’s own.

“Sir,” he says. “Is there something else that you need —” but he can’t finish the question, because as he speaks, a man across the room lifts his hand in greeting.

“Yuuri!” he says brightly. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

Yuuri glances up and his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Adrian. Hello. It’s been a while.”

Victor pauses, then remembers - yes. Adrian. Yuuri’s last partner, the one he’d demo’d with the night he and Yuuri met. He’d met Adrian at a party a few months ago but other than exchanging greetings, they’ve never talked.

“And Vic —” Adrian starts and Victor cuts across him.

“Beauty,” he says. “For tonight.”

Adrian smiles and nods quickly. “Oh, yes, of course! My apologies, _Beauty_. Are you two doing a demo, then?”

Yuuri glances at his phone. “Yes, in about fifteen minutes. They asked me to demo Florentine.”

“Oooh, one of my favorites of yours,” Adrian notes, and settles himself into a chair nearby. “Remember that time the flogger caught me up under the ear? I don’t think I stopped bleeding for an hour.”

Yuuri groans. “Don’t remind me. It was a nightmare. I still feel bad, honestly.”

Victor bites his lip so hard he’s afraid it will start bleeding. So he risks Yuuri’s wrath and gathers up the floggers and cuffs that are on Yuuri’s lap and stands. Yuuri blinks up at him, surprised at his cheek to stand without permission, and Victor studiously ignores Adrian’s delighted smirk.

“May I please go get you a drink before we start, sir?” he purrs. “And perhaps you’d like a chance to see the space beforehand?”

Yuuri narrows his eyes. “Just water, and I’d advise you watch yourself, Beauty,” he says, low.

Victor’s heart trips over itself as he nods and bows his head. “I apologize, sir, for being so forward. I just wished to be _punctual_.”

Adrian snickers as Yuuri stands and snags Victor by the hair. It hurts; Yuuri’s got him good and Victor can feel it tingle all the way down to his toes. “Watch your tone with me,” he snaps, and slaps Victor on the ass for good measure. Victor doesn’t care a damn that he’s being dressed down in front of Adrian, not at all, because Yuuri is out of his chair and they’re moving across the room to leave, Yuuri dragging Victor out by the hand. As soon as the door to the green room closes behind them Victor pulls back on Yuuri’s hand and drops to his knees, horrified at doing the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do - embarrass Yuuri in public.

“I’m so, so sorry, sir,” he says. “Please forgive me.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Yuuri asks, and the concern in his eyes is what Victor had hoped to see, hoped that his uncharacteristic display of attitude would make Yuuri realize that he was uncomfortable without having to come out and say it in front of someone else.

“I don’t know, I just...I didn’t like that he knew you so well,” Victor says quietly, and putting it into words makes it sound so juvenile. “I know there are other people you’ve played with out in the world, but I really didn’t want to remember them tonight.”

Yuuri cocks his head and studies Victor intently. “My lovely one, there will never be anyone else, do you understand?” He crouches down and kisses him again, soft and sweet, like he did in the playroom before they left. “I’ve never kissed someone like this,” he whispers against Victor’s lips, and before Victor can prepare himself, Yuuri twists his hand into Victor’s hair again and tugs his head back until Yuuri can look him deep in the eyes. “And once I’m done with you tonight, you’re going to forget your own name.”

…………………………………………………………….

His wrists are locked securely together, the metal loop set into the leather cuffs hooked onto a pole in the middle of the room. His feet are strapped into a spreader bar but otherwise free, and Victor knows that he’s being tested tonight. His acquiescence to his master’s touch, his willingness to accept the kiss of his flogger, to endure whatever Yuuri has planned without flinching - that’s all on open display for anyone at the club that comes to the demo room to see it.

And oh, have they come to see it, probably fifty people crammed into the demonstration room, their reflections echoing and seeming larger than life in the mirrors that line all of the walls. Victor can see himself from every angle from the slightly raised platform, and the feedback loop of watching the crowd watch him is almost overwhelming.

Victor is determined to be the most beautiful, the most perfect sub Yuuri has ever scened with, so he sets his shoulders into a posture worthy of the podium and tosses his head, and listens intently as Yuuri explains the intricacies of one of the more flashy flogging techniques he uses - the Florentine.

“It’s really just overlapping figure eights, when you get down to it,” Yuuri explains to the crowd gathered around. Victor tilts his head and he can see Yuuri standing just off to his left, doms and subs alike hanging on his every word, watching his every move, as he flips his wrists in an intricate pattern with one flogger, the pommel between his fingers instead of holding it by the handle.

“Then, once you have the pattern down, you can add the second one, like this.” The second black suede flogger joins in, and Yuuri glances back at Victor with a grin. “This is four-point, meaning, four hits per pass, like this. Are you ready, Beauty?” Victor nods and takes a deep breath as Yuuri steps behind him and he arches and sighs as yes, there it is, the soft strike of the lighter suede flogger across his shoulders in a four-count pattern, lilting like music across his skin. Another pass, then another, and Yuuri keeps talking.

“Once you have the pattern down, you can switch it up a bit. This is a six-point swing, where your dominant hand can go under your non-dominant hand, and the sensation is almost continuous. Or so I’ve been told.” The crowd chuckles lightly and Victor hisses as the hits of the flogger intensify, sliding across his skin with a nonstop susurrus of leather. He loves this, absolutely loves it, and he can’t help himself; he moans under the onslaught.

“As you can see, certain people really enjoy it, right, my lovely one?” Yuuri saunters around the pole until he’s face to face with Victor, and leans in to nip at his earlobe.

Victor gasps, the weight of all of the eyes in the room a vivid, tangible thing. “Yes, sir. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

There's an appreciative murmur as Yuuri turns back to the spectators and runs his hand carefully down Victor’s over-sensitized back. Victor arches and squirms but doesn’t move his feet from exactly where Yuuri had placed them earlier. Yuuri takes a few questions, and Victor can feel his skin heating as Yuuri explains how best to ramp up the intensity of the strikes, how to more easily balance the weight of the floggers and avoid wrist fatigue, and Victor feels like he’s floating, his mind sunk under a shimmering blanket of awareness. He’s not entirely sure how much longer he stands there, body poised and primed, accepting strikes as Yuuri doles them out, feet planted to the floor and so determined to not move he no longer can feel his feet as separate entities; he's nothing but a warm ball of sensation, Yuuri's voice washing over him in waves.

“My beauty, you need to come back to me now,” Yuuri says in his ear. His voice is a warm curl in Victor’s groin, a signal that good things are his due. Can he move? Victor isn't sure.

“I…” he starts. “Are we done?”

Yuuri unhooks his wrists from the pole and Victor’s arms flop, useless, to his sides. He can feel his fingers just fine but he's disinclined to move. The combination of flogging and Yuuri's voice and being out like this in public must have really scattered him, and he can feel an incessant throbbing pressure in his cock.

“I need you to walk with me, okay? You're a bit too under, baby. Playtime is over.”

“Noooo,” Victor whines. How could it be over? He didn't get all of his rewards yet.

“Later, pet. Let's go find a quiet place and get you some sugar. I'm so proud of you, my beauty. You took it all so well. Did you like being up there?”

Victor nods. He did, he loved it, the idea of dozens of eyes watching Yuuri skillfully play his body while at the same time Yuuri was teaching them was so incredibly arousing, and Victor just needs one more thing to make the night perfect.

“Wanna suck you off,” he says, tongue thick with fatigue. “Please. Want you to sit on my face, let me fuck your ass with my tongue.”

Yuuri's hand tightens around his waist as he guides him back into the green room and deposits him on a sofa.”You're going to kill me,” he mutters as he collects a plate of snacks from the table. “Only you would drop into subspace that deep in the middle of a public demo and be so perfectly obedient it was all I could do to not fuck you right there. God.” Yuuri sits down next to him with the plate. “Open,” he says, and starts feeding Victor grapes, orange sections, and bits of chocolate until the shaky feeling wears off and Victor feels more like himself.

“I'll get you a drink,” Yuuri says. “Tonic and lime?”

Victor is a tiny bit disappointed Yuuri's in aftercare mode and not as horny as Victor is right now. It's still early, though, and things could change. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll be right back, then. Keep eating, okay? You need a blood sugar boost.” Yuuri swishes away, heels clacking with purpose, and the door settles closed, leaving Victor alone in the green room where it’s blessedly quiet.

He picks at his plate, eating a few pieces of cheese. He’s happy he did well, and now he wants a bit more fun in the club. Maybe they could dance, and Yuuri would let Victor grind up on him, tuck his fingers under the edges of those shorts and get himself good and turned on and ready for whatever Yuuri might have planned at home.

The door opens with a swell of music and Victor looks up, expecting to see Yuuri returning with his drink. But it isn’t.

It’s Adrian.

He’s flushed and sweaty and covered in glitter and a few red marks on his chest, and Victor puts his immediate distaste aside as curiosity takes over. “You, ah. You okay? Did you scene somewhere?”

Adrian laughs. “Yeah, kinda impromptu, got dragged into a booth with some people. Man, Alexis has some sharp nails. Anyway, I’m fine, thanks. You, however,” Adrian settles into a chair across from him and gives him a sharp once over, and Victor feels a bit ruffled. “You slipped down pretty fast up there. Yuuri taking care of you?”

“Of course. He’s off getting drinks.” Silence settles between them, and Victor looks back down at his plate. He has learned that one thing holds true generally no matter who you’re dealing with - subs always check on each other, make sure that everything is going the way it should.

Adrian glances up from his phone. “You’re still pretty raw, aren’t you?”

Victor is immediately on high alert. “What makes you say that?”

“Yuuri asking you if you were ready. He never asks, he just does. If you weren’t ready you shouldn’t have even been there to start with. He doesn’t have patience and he doesn’t coddle. I’m surprised you’re the one he collared.”

Victor stares, startled, but then gets his head together. “But he did, didn’t he,” he says sweetly, and resettles himself on sofa just roughly enough his chain rings. He lightly touches his fingertips to his collar and turns his best, brightest, fakest smile on Adrian. “And isn’t it beautiful?”

Adrian rolls his eyes. “Relax, Beauty. I’m not out to get your man. I’m just waiting to see if you’re going to run the first time he pulls out his knife. It’s entertaining, like watching reality tv.”

Victor’s blood runs cold. “What makes you think he hasn’t?”

“Call it a hunch.” Adrian walks over and stands over Victor and points to his arm. There, on the top of his shoulder, are three small parallel lines etched into his skin. “You don’t have any of these, yet. Not that I’ve seen, not at any of the parties we’ve been to. And I’ve been watching.”

Victor keeps the smile plastered on his face. “And why do you even care? I thought you said you’re not out to get my man?”

“Oooh, did I get a little too close to the mark? Like I said, it’s interesting. I loved figuring out what made Yuuri tick, and once he starts getting possessive over someone things get pretty wild if you let him. I wasn’t going to be that someone, but I got some backdraft a few times.”

The door to the green room opens and Yuuri walks through with two glasses. He sees Adrian and Victor and stops dead, eyes wide.

“Adrian,” he says carefully.

Adrian chuckles and turns toward Yuuri. “Oh, I was just chatting with Beauty about the demo. It was gorgeous, as always. No one can really capture the grace of the Florentine like you.” He looks back at Victor and smirks. “And along those lines, if I can ever be of service to either of you, I’m willing.”

Victor holds his breath, waiting, until Yuuri narrows his eyes. “I think I’ve made my intentions clear,” he says. “And I don’t share.”

“Understood, Yuuri. I just wanted to let you know. Have a good rest of the night, I’m pretty well done.” Adrian passes out of the room without another word or a glance back, and Victor looks up at Yuuri as he crosses the room to stand over him on the sofa.

“What did he say,” he demands.

Victor takes his glass of tonic with lime and shrugs as carelessly as he can manage. “He just said he was watching me, waiting to see how things between us were going. I think he still wants you. Not that I blame him.”

Yuuri eyes him carefully. Victor knows he’s betraying himself, that Yuuri can see what Victor’s so desperately trying to hide - that he’s still feeling buzzy yet, high and a bit strung out, but hopefully not that he now knows Adrian has something of Yuuri’s that he doesn’t and jealousy is eating him up inside.

So he slides off the sofa and kneels in front of his master, stretching himself out so his chest is on the floor and his wrists are crossed in front of him. “Please,” he begs.

He hears a click as Yuuri sets his glass on a table, and then there’s a pressure against his shoulder, something hard and cold and...oh god. It’s Yuuri’s boot, braced against Victor’s shoulder.

“You have been such a good boy today,” Yuuri says. “And you belong to me, is that clear?”

Victor nods, but keeps his face toward the floor. If he looks at Yuuri’s face now, he might completely crumble. Yuuri pushes harder against Victor’s shoulder, pushing him down, stepping on him, and Victor whimpers.

“And I belong to you, you know.” Yuuri’s voice is soft. “Kiss it.”

Victor shivers and turns his head. All he can reach is the viciously spiked heel, so he presses his lips to it, the leather cool and smooth. A spark runs down his spine at the taste of the leather so he does it again, this time more slowly, dragging his lips up and down the heel before he pulls back and tries to keep his breathing under control.

Yuuri’s foot pulls back. “Get up and come with me,” he says.

Victor scrambles to his feet. Yuuri takes his hand and leads him out of the green room and down the hall to a door marked with a number six. Yuuri pulls a keycard from his waistband and unlocks the door with a click. “This is ours,” Yuuri says. “Comes with the membership we earned.” He pulls Victor through the door and into a small room fitted out with a sofa and chairs and a small bar. Victor tries to take it all in, but before he can get more than a few steps into the room Yuuri has his hand on Victor’s shoulder, pushing him down to kneel.

Victor goes with a breath of relief, and watches avidly as Yuuri unzips and shoves his shorts down and presents Victor with his cock, hard and leaking. “Suck,” he demands. Oh hell yes, Victor will, and he takes Yuuri’s cock on his tongue and licks around the head, savoring.

“No, I said suck it,” Yuuri says, earning Victor a slap on the cheek. Oh god, the sting across his skin lights his nerves and sends a jolt straight to his groin. Yuuri cups his hand around the back of Victor’s head and pulls him in, Victor drawing in a deep breath right before Yuuri’s cock lodges in his throat. He scrambles to hold on to Yuuri’s thighs, to relax his body and let himself feel, let Yuuri fuck his mouth. Yuuri sets a fast pace, rough and hard and sloppy, and Victor groans when Yuuri finally pulls away and takes Victor’s chin in a punishing grip. His eyes are wild, almost feral, and Victor _melts_.

“Get those pants off right now,” Yuuri says, then steps back and unbuttons and sheds his jacket, tossing it on the floor. “I want you naked and on my cock in the next minute.”

“Yessir,” Victor slurs, and hurriedly kicks off his shoes and pants and climbs over Yuuri where he’s sitting on a small chair, shorts shoved down over his thighs, boots still on. Victor is a bit worried that there’s no lube, but before he can even spit into his hand, Yuuri has a wet finger rubbing between his cheeks and pressing into his body.

“God, Victor, you are so perfect,” Yuuri says, and leans forward to nip at his chest, right over his nipple. Victor gasps at the sting of it, a hard bite that’s definitely going to leave a mark. “I love you so much it’s almost _painful_.”

Victor knows the feeling, wants Yuuri to exist with him like this forever, to give a joyous tint to all of his days. He lifts himself and waits for Yuuri to press his cock hard against his hole then starts to slide down, muscle memory letting his body open quickly, naturally, as his weight pulls him into Yuuri’s lap. He gasps when he’s fully seated, then rolls his hips, his own cock rubbing against Yuuri’s stomach.

“Sir, please, fuck me. I need you so much.”

Yuuri lifts his hips, jolting Victor on his lap. “Yes, my beauty, god, yes, I want to live here, inside you.” Yuuri shifts Victor on his lap enough that he can get some leverage and fucks up, hard, and Victor sees stars, his body tingling all over as Yuuri hits his prostate over and over, one hand on his cock and stroking fast. “Want to be with you forever,” Yuuri continues, voice low and almost lost where his head is tucked into Victor’s neck. “Want to make you mine, make you bleed, leave my mark on you forever, God Victor, are you close?”

Victor holds on for dear life, his arms wrapped around Yuuri’s shoulders. He can hear Adrian saying that he’s waiting for Yuuri to get out his knife, and here it is, that's what he wants, what he's been driving towards. To make Victor bleed for him. If that’s what he wants Victor will give it to him. It’s not even the most Yuuri could ever ask, and as he feels Yuuri start to come inside him, Victor lets himself go, lets the sensation overtake him as well and comes with a groan all over Yuuri’s stomach, fluid smearing between them as they move.

They come down, breathing heavy into the humid space between them. Victor doesn’t budge, doesn’t let Yuuri’s cock, still hard, leave his body. Yuuri is going to realize what he said, here in the next minute, and Victor needs to reassure him. He pulls back and looks at Yuuri’s wide eyes, and Victor knows the set of his mouth means he’s about to spiral into anxiety.

“Yuuri, it’s okay,” he tries to say, at the same moment Yuuri pulls himself from Victor’s body. Come leaks from his hole, his chest a bit sore from the bruise Yuuri left over his nipple. Yuuri lifts a finger to swipe against Victor’s skin and it comes away with a tiny smear of red. They both stare at it, Victor oddly satisfied, and Yuuri looks...terrified?

“Clarity,” Yuuri says.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yuuri's lace jacket](https://www.aliexpress.com/item/2016-winter-new-women-basic-coats-luxury-black-lace-leggings-sashes-3-pieces-set-long-sleeve/32758744616.html)   
>  [Yuuri's boots](https://www.tbdress.com/product/Side-Zipper-Stiletto-Heel-Pointed-Toe-Over-The-Knee-Womens-Boots-11533586.html?currency=USD&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIodfLk6eZ4AIVVrbACh09tQtmEAQYASABEgJzCfD_BwE#2499656)   
>  [The Florentine flogging technique Yuuri uses.](https://youtu.be/mgKMebSoZr4)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri swallows past the lump in his throat as he swabs Victor’s hip with alcohol, inspects his blade carefully. His pulse thunders in his ears as he looks again at the expanse of milk-white skin over the curve of Victor’s hip, places the tip of the blade near the crest, and pauses.
> 
> It’s going to be too much, any moment now. Too much for him, too much for Victor, too much, too much, _too much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blessed are the volunteers, for they bring you the best quality smut. Darling her_nerdiness had some legit awesome IRL Stuff to do that is very time consuming, so [ajwolf](https://t.co/xzKRwqSQB1) jumped in there like a boss with the pinch hit. And, all the very best to AND who keeps my Dom!Yuuri on the creative path and you can thank for the solution to the argument about being bound in this chapter. 
> 
> For those who wanted to know, this is where shit gets real and the bloodplay starts about halfway down, As soon as it starts "Friday finds Yuuri..." I'd bail. Then "More wine?" starts the very last scene, but there is discussion about Victor's cut in there.

  
“Clarity,” echoes in his ears.

Yuuri is sure the entire world has slowed down to half speed. He can feel the heavy beat of his heart, the wetness over his thighs, Victor’s skin against his. There’s a murmuring, a voice trying to break its way through his consciousness, and as he finally takes a startled, choked breath, it becomes clearer.

“It’s okay, Yuuri,” Victor keeps saying, peppering his face with tiny kisses. “It’s okay. I promise. Please come back to me, I’m still here. Please. I love you, and it’s okay.”

Yuuri opens his eyes and there, still perched on his lap, is Victor, staring at him with his big blue eyes, his expression worried. Yuuri knows he blurted out something he shouldn’t have, that this was not the way to tell Victor that he’s allowed his possessive fantasies to get a bit out of hand. He’s got to pull himself together, for himself and for Victor.

“I’m sorry, my b - Victor,” he says, faltering. “I know you’re probably a bit, ah, worried. About what I just said.”

Victor pulls back and looks at him closely. “Only in that I think you’re worried about it.”

Yuuri swallows down his fear, the nervousness starting to fade in the face of Victor’s – acceptance? Not-panic? “Okay. Yeah. We really need to talk about it. Probably shouldn’t do it here, though.”

Victor shifts on his lap and wrinkles his nose, and Yuuri can feel a fresh wash of come slide over his thighs. “Oh god, that feels so nasty,” Victor complains, and swings his leg over Yuuri’s lap and looks around the room before he spots a pile of small towels on the edge of the bar. “I love you, Yuuri, and you know I’ll do anything for you. But seriously,” he says, and starts wiping up. “You do me raw out in public again and we’re gonna have a talk about who is in charge of what in this relationship.”

Yuuri can’t help it, Victor complaining about cleanup is just so unexpectedly, blessedly normal that Yuuri feels a giggle bubble up out of his chest, his laughter startling Victor enough to turn around from where he’s trying to turn his pants right side out. “What?” he says, cracking a smile.

Yuuri just laughs harder, struggling to pull his shorts up his sticky thighs. He should have known better; hell, he did know better. Victor has never been anything but beautifully accepting, if not encouraging, of everything Yuuri is and wants. Of course, he’d take this as much in stride as anything else he’s experienced the last year. Yuuri finally gets his shorts fastened and catches Victor by the elbow and pulls him in to kiss his shoulder. “Thank you,” Yuuri says quietly.

Victor smiles, a gentle, soft thing that lifts Yuuri’s heart. “You’re my Yuuri,” he says, and kisses Yuuri’s nose. “And my master. And my love. This isn’t even the most of what you could ask of me.” Victor takes Yuuri’s hand and tugs him along until they reach the door, then Yuuri winds his arm around Victor’s waist and Victor does the same, and they walk out of the club together and into the New York night.

……………………………………………………………………………………

Hot water pounds Yuuri’s scalp, washing away the residue of glitter and sweat and come that clung to his body the entire ride home. The cab ride was a bit tense, Yuuri catching Victor’s eye every few minutes, assuring himself that yes, he was still really there, he hadn’t run off or been disgusted or afraid of what he heard. The details, though; Yuuri knows that’s what trips people up sometimes. The idea of being carefully touched by a very sharp knife is sexy and taboo but the reality of that pain, that risk and how you had to mitigate it, usually puts people off.

He turns off the shower with a sharp snap of his wrist. Victor is in the downstairs shower, both of them deciding that a few minutes apart to get their heads together is probably a good idea. The fact they’re doing this now, right after a scene, is enough to make Yuuri a bit wary as it is – Victor could still be high on endorphins, his rational mind not clicking in enough to let him make the best decisions. Yuuri looks in the mirror, disgusted with himself for blurting it out like that. But then, as he looks at his disheveled, wet hair and the small streak of eyeliner he didn’t quite get scrubbed away, he realizes that it really will be okay, that Victor knows very well this is who he is and loves him for it. Not just the kind of begrudging acceptance he’d experienced from past partners, but a deep well of love and care for everything that Yuuri is.

Yuuri lets himself smile a bit as he gets dressed. He realizes as he brushes his hair that this kind of beautiful, open acceptance is something he really wants to hold onto. Yes, he wants to further mark his possession of Victor as his sub, but more than that, he wants to have Victor as his … oh god. Yuuri grips the sides of the sink as the realization rocks him. He wants so much more, wants Victor forever. Not just his boyfriend, kept at a slight distance, but an enmeshed part of his life, always.

He swallows and laughs shakily at himself. _One thing at a time, Katsuki. Let’s just get through the sex bit first then we can discuss the rest of our lives later._

Yuuri opens his closet door and carefully manipulates the combination dial on the safe tucked into the back corner. He pulls out a black, locking valise and clutches it to his chest. He’s not touched anything in it for well over eight months, and Victor hasn’t seen it since the first day they cemented their arrangement, well over a year ago. Yuuri grasps it tighter and makes his way down the long, twisting staircase and into the front hall.

“Yuuri,” Victor calls from the dining room, “I thought maybe a glass of wine wouldn’t be a bad –” he stops as he catches sight of Yuuri through the sliding doors, and sets the two glasses, heavy with deep red wine, on the table. “Oh, I remember that,” he says.

Yuuri puts the valise on the table, clicks through the numbered wheels until he can pop the lock, and pulls the stack of manila envelopes from inside. Each one is marked with an initial, and Yuuri flips through the files until he finds one marked “V” and one marked “Y.”

“Yeah, we’ve not looked at these since that first day,” Yuuri says, unwinding the string holding the envelope marked “V” closed. A sheaf of papers tied in red ribbon slides out into his hand, Victor’s limit lists and his various consent forms and liability releases. Yuuri swallows heavily. “I should have brought these out sooner, but we’ve been so in tune I didn’t think to update them until um...well now, I suppose.”

Victor reaches out and snags a group of documents, sits down at the table and glances over them. “Oh, hah, I had caning as a maybe, that’s hilarious.”

Yuuri pulls his own envelope toward himself, the edges frayed, the string that holds the flap closed broken short, and barely holding on. The papers that slide out into his hand are just as worn, edges torn and additions added in different colored pen, things marked out and changed and worked around from one category to the next, and not at all redrafted as it probably should have been once Yuuri figured out exactly what he liked, and why. He glances quickly over his hard limits list. Those are still fine, staying far away from piss and scat and electrocution, but there, penned in bright blue ink between “soft limit” and “Yes, please!” on his own list, is “Knifeplay - blood upon request, monitored only.”

“Yuuri,” Victor says, and the question is soft, but insistent. “I need you to talk to me.”

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s pretty clear over the last few weeks that I’ve been getting pretty...um. Pretty rough with you. And I honestly was struggling to figure out exactly why, and what I wanted. What I was looking for. And you’ve been so patient with me, but I can tell that it's been bothering you, too.”

Victor cocks his head at him. “What?” he says. “I mean, no, it’s not bothering me, not like that. I just want to help you figure out what you want, that’s all. We’re supposed to be communicating and I wasn’t sure how to help.”

Yuuri is confused for a moment, Victor’s pensive silences apparently not reading the way he thought they were, but he pushes it aside for the moment. “Okay, well. It’s... It’s just.” Yuuri passes his hand through his hair and looks at Victor’s beautiful, expectant face. “I love you, and I’ve been really um...possessive, lately. And I know this sounds a bit creepy and probably way outside the bounds but...I’d like to mark you. With a knife. In a really not-good, kind of, ah, blood drawing way.” Victor doesn’t even blink and Yuuri can feel panic fluttering around his ribcage. “And I know blood is on your hard limits list! So I’ve been sort of reaching for other things to satisfy this really freaky kink I’ve got and apparently it’s not working. I’m so sorry.” Yuuri closes his eyes and lowers his head, and waits for judgment.

“May I see your list?” Victor says gently.

“Of course.” Yuuri hands it over. “It’s kind of a mess, I’ve not rewritten a clean copy.”

Victor’s eyes skim over the words quickly, one eyebrow raising at – what? What could he see that makes him look that intrigued? But then he puts it down on the table and scoots closer, and folds one hand over Yuuri’s.

“There is absolutely nothing you could ask me that I’d not seriously consider,” he starts, and here it comes, here comes the ‘but’. It’s okay, he’s fine with it. He’ll be fine with it. Victor puts his fingers under Yuuri’s chin and lifts his face until they’re looking into each other’s eyes. Victor looks so sweet, so earnest and so loving that Yuuri’s heart skips a beat. “Yuuri, like I said earlier, there is so much more you could ask of me than this,” he says and pulls his list over in front of him, uncaps a pen, and crosses out “Bloodplay” from under his hard limits list. “I have questions though.”

Yes, questions. This is familiar territory; he can deal with this. “Okay.”

“What do you mean by mark, exactly?”

“I mean I’d clean your skin and tease you with a very sharp blade, heighten the sensation of the edge against your skin until I pressed it enough to leave a shallow cut. However long or however many is really up to you. If you want it to scar it's up to you, too. But seriously, this is risky stuff, Victor. This isn’t like flogging or anything — this is serious. This is why you wrote the book you wrote, you know? People have been killed doing this with people they shouldn’t trust.”

Victor’s lip is caught between his teeth, his cheeks a delicate pink. “I know. And you know I trust you.”

Yuuri’s heart pounds. Could he really be considering this seriously? “Yes, but even if we did it, we’d need monitors. And you’d not be bound or anything.”

Victor frowns. “No, I want to be bound. Completely. Four corners.”

Yuuri startles. “What? No, we’re not doing that. I’m not getting near you with a knife and not leaving you free to get up if you want to.”

The crease between Victor's eyebrows gets deeper, a signal he's about to dig his heels in. “This has to be for both of us, and I'm telling you, I want to be restrained. I want to really know its happening.”

“Absolutely not. You have no idea what you're asking for.” Victor narrows his eyes and Yuuri feels a sharp spike of fear that he might have just overstepped a line. “Victor, come on, you know I didn't – “

“I'm not a baby, sir. I know what I want. Stop treating me like I'm too naive to understand.”

Yuuri can feel the fire of a fight ramping up. This is ridiculous, they're arguing over something that Victor hasn't even agreed to do yet, and –

“Wait,” Yuuri says, and holds up a hand. “Does this mean you're considering it?”

Victor huffs and crosses his arms, and Yuuri wants to kiss the pout off of his beautiful face. “Well, I thought that was obvious, but if you won't stop being so dumb about it I might not.”

_Not a baby, eh?_   Yuuri chuckles before he leans forward and kisses the tip of Victor's nose. “Okay, my love. I've got an idea. We'll use breakaway chains, would that satisfy you? They'll definitely hold you down unless you really panic.”

Victor tilts his head and grins. “Perfect!” He chirps. “I can’t wait to try them. I do have another question though if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. I want to answer everything, Victor.”

Victor nods, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Well...I feel sort of stupid asking, really; but – Adrian said you scarred people when you got possessive of them. Is that true? And, are –” Victor gestures to the pile of envelopes on the table – “Are all of these for people you've scened with?”

Yuuri sighs. He should have known. Adrian, impish and smart, would definitely take the opportunity to insinuate some space between Yuuri and Victor that he might be able to squeeze himself into. “Okay, first things first; Adrian is straight up lying. He has those scars because he asked me for them. It was a bit of mutual fun, yes, but I never wanted to keep him. I promise.”

Victor blows out a breath. “Okay, good. Yes. And the envelopes?”

“Yes, they’re old files on some people I’ve scened with and I’ll burn them if you want.” Yuuri scrutinizes him carefully. Could he really that jealous? He thinks about that night, Adrian on his knees, begging; Yuuri etching three careful lines over his shoulder. It was hot, yes, but so impersonal that Yuuri was able to forget about it within days. “I'm serious, Victor. This...this desire to really mark, this is new. And it's all about you.”

Victor's eyes go wide, and he leans forward in his chair until he is almost between Yuuri's knees. Yuuri can smell his freshly washed skin, see the still-damp edges of his hair. His collarbone peeks out from the stretched out old t-shirt he's wearing, and Yuuri shivers with his nearness. “If that’s the case, then please, Yuuri,” he says, his voice dropping to a throaty whisper, “I want you to cut me. Mark me up. Permanently.”

“Oh my god, Victor,” Yuuri says and turns into him, captures his lips in a deep kiss that flares white-hot in an instant. They need to keep talking, there are so many more things they should work out between them, but as Yuuri stands and pulls Victor up to throw him over his shoulder and carry him, laughing, to the sofa, he knows they'll have plenty of time later.

For now, Victor beckoning Yuuri to climb between his thighs is just as important a conversation.

………………………………………………………………………

Yuuri stretches and rolls over to cuddle himself into Victor’s broad back. His skin is always so warm and soft and Yuuri wants to just curl up and sink into it and sleep forever.

But first, he has to pee. Dammit.

“Whazzit?” Victor mumbles. “You up?”

“No,” Yuuri says. “Just going to the bathroom. It’s almost ten though, we should get up.”

“ ‘kay,” Victor says, and rolls over and closes his eyes. It’s rare Yuuri is awake before Victor is, but they were up fairly late last night after the demo and well...everything. Yuuri smiles at the memory, Victor so warmly accepting and loving about it that Yuuri feels like the entire world is on his side, and nothing could possibly go wrong at this moment. He shuffles down the hallway and pees, washes his hands, and heads back to the bedroom. As he passes by Phichit’s room he notices a pile of books on the floor, so he pokes his head in to see Phichit, sitting cross-legged on his bed, piles of books scattered around him. There are a couple of boxes already sitting on the floor half filled, and a few more against the wall, flat.

“What the heck?” Yuuri says.

“Morning!” Phichit chirps. “You’ve got some serious sex hair, my friend, good for you.”

“Don’t try to put me off. What are you doing?”

Phichit shrugs and looks around. “Marie Kondo’ing. I have to tell you, this old theoretical calculus book really does not spark joy. More like sparks nightmares, you know?”

“Okay,” Yuuri replies, but he’s not so sure. Phichit never organizes. “What’s with the boxes?”

Phichit sighs, tosses a copy of “The Orchid Thief” into a pile on his bed, laces his fingers over his knee and looks Yuuri right in the eyes. Yuuri sits down immediately. It’s going to be one of those conversations when Phichit gives that look, and Yuuri settles in front of him.

“You’re moving out,” Yuuri says.

Phichit stares at him, openmouthed. “What the fuck, Yuuri? Did Victor tell you already?”

“He knows?”

“Chris said something to him but he said he didn’t want us to talk to you yet. He wanted me to wait until he could talk to you first, but screw that, this is you and me we’re talking about here.” Phichit leans forward and takes Yuuri’s hands. “Chris and I are talking about moving in together.”

Yuuri’s heart thumps painfully in his chest. “He didn’t tell me, no. I sort of… I don’t know. Intuition, I think. But congratulations. That’s really, really great.” _Oh god, I just realized that this is what I want, it must be fate telling me it’s time for this to happen, that Victor should move in._

“Is it?” Phichit says, head cocked and looking at Yuuri intently. “Why do I feel so cast aside all of a sudden. Is this a ‘Don’t let the door hit you in the ass’ kind of thing?”

Yuuri chokes out a laugh. “No! Not at all! But, well... You’ll be selling half a house, right? And, um... I might have someone who wants to buy half a house? Or rent it?”

Phichit raises an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well how perfect is that, then? You know, Chris and I may have had this conversation once or twice. Or a dozen times already.”

“Thanks for cluing me in on that earlier,” Yuuri says, wryly. “I mean, you could have talked to me. Or us. Or something. So why now?”

“That apartment, the one over in Greenwich that I told you about – it’s on the market. I went to look at it and it’s perfect. I mean, completely so. It’s got a whole two sides that are brick, and the living room and the kitchen all open up onto the full front windows and balcony…”

Phichit continues to talk about the apartment, and Yuuri listens with one ear while his brain works at lightning speed at how he could ask Victor to move in with him. How soon he could ask. They just negotiated some pretty significant changes to their sexual practices literally last night, could their relationship handle another shift so soon?

“...and there’s this room they called a study, but you know, it’s gonna be a playroom, it’ll fit a queen sized cage bed and a frame, so... Yuuri. Yuuri!”

Yuuri blinks. “Oh, sorry! A frame, but not anywhere for a hardpoint?”

Phichit looks at him with a sly smile, as if he knew exactly where Yuuri’s brain had been the last couple of minutes. “Look, I’ll take you over there and show you. I’m going to need you to work with me on the setup, you know? And we need to talk about furniture and stuff. But it’s so early, we can talk about that, all four of us, when Chris gets back.”

Yuuri nods. Yes, they’ll have to split the playroom. The furniture and the equipment that they bought together, and the different bits and pieces they’ve collected in the years they’ve lived together. Yuuri realizes that some of these things will no longer be a part of his day to day life, and neither will Phichit, his best friend, and he can feel his face fall.

“Peach,” he starts and he suddenly can’t talk, the lump in his throat too big to force the words past. Phichit looks at him and smiles, and leans forward to envelop him in a hug.

“I love you, Yuuri,” he says. “You’re my best friend, and will always be. We’re going like, a 20-minute ride away. You’ll still see me, and Chris. I promise. Now, go back to your man. Have you talked about that other thing with him yet?”

Yuuri nods. “We’re good.” He pulls back and smiles. “We’re going to need you guys to monitor,” he says, and Phichit’s eyes light up.

“Oh hell yes, I knew it! It’s gonna be so good, you better realize how lucky you are. Damn.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says. “If Friday night works for you, he wants to try then.”

“Holy shit, that’s uh. Yeah. Chris gets in Wednesday; he’ll think it’s Christmas.”

Yuuri chuckles and stands up. He wants to get back to Victor, to fall into bed and feel the steady beat of his heart that settles Yuuri’s nerves when he’s feeling troubled and out of sorts. “Okay. Well, this was a wild way to wake up, but you know, it’ll be okay. Love you, Peach.”

“Love you too, Yuuri. And my payment for Friday is Indian food Saturday, with drinks. My man hasn’t been home in three weeks. We want to celebrate.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Yuuri slips out of the door and across the hall and pauses. Victor is still asleep, or appears to be, his silver hair a splash of color across Yuuri’s dark blue sheets. Yuuri climbs back into bed and snuggles into him, manhandling him around until Yuuri can settle with his head on Victor’s chest.

“What’s wrong,” Victor murmurs, his hand in Yuuri’s hair. “You seem a bit upset.”

Yuuri sighs. “Nothing is wrong, exactly. But Phichit just told me he and Chris want to move in together.”

Victor twitches, just a bit, and Yuuri waits. “Um. Yeah, Chris mentioned to me that there was an apartment they wanted, but I, um...I didn’t want Phichit to freak you out or upset you so I thought we could talk, first.”

Yuuri leans up on one elbow and looks down at Victor’s face, still sleep-soft and so, so beautiful. He should be annoyed that Victor knew about this and didn’t tell him right away, but he just isn’t. “Well, it’s hard to not have those conversations when Phichit and I, you know, own this house together. We have to talk to each other. I appreciate it but that’s just how it works.”

Victor traces his fingertips down Yuuri’s cheek. “I know that. But what I was hoping for was a bit more of a romantic setting than this.”

“Yeah?” Yuuri leans into the touch, his heart skittering a bit in his chest. “What for?”

“Well, you know how you thought last night I was worried about your knife thing?”

Yuuri swallows. “Yes?”

“It may be that I’ve been a bit distracted, thinking of the perfect time to ask you if you might want to live together.” Victor’s eyes are bright, his cheeks pink, and Yuuri can see the fingers of one hand flexing into the sheets, fingers wrapping into the fabric like he does the bottom of a shirt. Yuuri is nervous too, his fingers shaking where they rest on Victor’s chest.

“Yeah?” Yuuri says, and takes a deep breath. “I was just thinking how perfect that could be.”

Victor leans up and catches Yuuri behind the neck and pulls him in until they’re barely a breath apart, his nearness a comforting heat. “Does that mean you’re saying yes?” he asks.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, his smile so wide it makes his cheeks ache. “Of course I am. I want to be with you all the time.”

“Yes!” Victor grins back and tackles Yuuri down on the bed, smothers him in kisses. Yuuri lets himself drown in affection so freely given, his heart buoyant, the last twenty-four hours giving him more in his life than he ever could have expected on the day that Victor Nikiforov appeared in his life for the second time.

…………………………………………………………...

Friday finds Yuuri fretting about his setup — four sets of chains, each with a link severed and held together with silver thread. They’ll hold Victor tightly enough he won’t be able to move but will break easily under Victor’s strength if he panics.

_Please_ , Yuuri thinks. _Don’t let him panic. Let me guide him the best I can._

“We’ve set up out here,” Phichit says from the doorway. “His safeword is salchow. The camera is running and pretty clear.”

Yuuri nods, then attaches another black leather cuff to the end of the chains that are bolted to the four legs of the lounge. It’s going to be fine. He’s got the lights dimmed and the temperature up a few degrees, and he’s set the table up with three dozen blood-red roses, overflowing three short, square glass vases. White pillar candles are scattered around the room, casting a flickering, otherworldly light across the space.

It’s a bit hard to make the double-edged throwing knife in a velvet-lined wooden box look romantic, but he’s trying.

“Yuuri, it’s going to be fine,” Phichit says, as he walks over to lay a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “I know you. You’ve got this planned and organized to the last detail. Just relax. Enjoy it. Let him enjoy it.”

Yuuri blows out a breath. He and Victor had negotiated every single major event tonight, but he knows perfectly well that humans are unpredictable at best, and, honestly, what point is there being a Dom if you tell your sub every single thing they’re going to encounter? Yuuri puts the silver cock cage on the lounge and raises an eyebrow at Phichit, who grins in response.

“Wow, vicious. That’s my boy. Okay, we’re just across the hall if you need us, okay? Have fun!”

Phichit waves and closes the door, heading off toward the storage room across the hall where he and Chris have set up a video monitor to keep an eye on them (and feed Phichit’s voyeur streak). Honestly, Yuuri shouldn’t owe him much of anything given what he and Chris are getting out of this monitoring session.

He looks around once more. He’s as ready as he’s going to get, so he texts Victor upstairs and gives him the okay and vacates the playroom, settling in the bathroom with his back against the tub. He gets a heart emoji back from Victor, and he sets the timer.

Five minutes.

The ceiling creaks as Victor makes his way across the hundred-year-old wood floors above him, crossing the entry and reaching the stairs that lead down into the basement. Yuuri can almost see him, still wearing the jeans he was wearing earlier in the day, opening the door and finding everything set up, perhaps examining the knife Yuuri left in plain sight. He is probably surprised at the sight of the cage, and that adorable wrinkle between his eyebrows will be on full display as he strips down and kneels on the cushion Yuuri moved to the end of the lounge instead of the center of the playroom as it usually is.

The timer on his phone buzzes, so Yuuri shuts it off and carefully places it on the shelf in the bathroom, brushes any possible lint from his black satin pajama bottoms and opens the door.

Victor is kneeling, naked, his collar polished and bright in the low lights, and Yuuri’s breath catches when he raises his eyes to Yuuri’s own. He looks flushed and his eyes are glittering with excitement, and Yuuri can feel the answering kick of adrenaline in his own chest.

“Good evening, my beauty,” Yuuri says.

“Good evening, sir,” Victor answers, as he always does, and that simple, normal answer helps Yuuri find his own center and his confidence. This may be a bit more complicated and require a lot more negotiation than their usual scenes, but it is still a scene, and Yuuri can feel the power of his position slide over him like a familiar, warm embrace.

Yuuri slips his fingers across Victor’s shoulders as he walks in a slow circle around him, examining him carefully. He looks strong and alert, his posture perfect and his entire being radiating energy. Lovely. He’s ready.

“You’re looking delectable tonight, my beauty. But I’ve got a few special accessories for you to help you earn your reward. You know what that is, don’t you?”

Victor flushes, and nods. “Yes, sir. You’ll give me your special mark. You told me no one else has one. Just me.”

Yuuri smiles. “That’s right. And you want that, don’t you, Victor?”

Victor nods, his eyes glancing at the table to his left. Yuuri reaches out and grasps his chin. “Ah-ah, lovely. Look at me.” Yuuri can feel the itch to touch Victor in his fingertips, the thready heat of desire winding its way down his spine, and he needs Victor to submit, to break under his hands, to push himself all at Yuuri’s command. “Lie on the lounge. Pick up the cage and hold it.”

Victor stands and picks up the cage, then settles on the lounge as instructed. Yuuri can see his lips twist slightly, just the corner, betraying the slightest bit of displeasure, but Yuuri knows he’ll make Victor’s exercise in denial a memorable one. He steps over and stands at the end of the lounge, looking down at Victor, who has his legs spread in anticipation, his hands holding the cage cradled against his stomach.

Yuuri pulls a small, egg shaped vibrator out of his pocket and holds it between his finger and thumb. Victor’s eyes widen a bit and he smiles.

“I think I might like where this is going.”

“I thought you might. Lift your knees so I can reach you.” Victor does, and Yuuri pumps a bit of lube into his hand. He can see Victor’s hole, soft and pink and, as he touches him, already slightly prepped as he usually is, and Yuuri pushes three fingers in without a second thought, relishing Victor’s sharp gasp.

“No complaining,” Yuuri says mildly. “You know you’re supposed to be ready when you walk in here.”

“I'm not complaining,” Victor pants, and Yuuri twists his fingers until he can reach Victor’s prostate and strokes it. Victor shudders at the overwhelming rush of stimulation, and Yuuri does it again. He then pulls his fingers back and coats the little vibrator with lube, and carefully seats it inside Victor’s body, edging it around with his fingers until he’s certain its pressed up against Victor’s already stimulated prostate. He doesn’t generally stay hard with direct prostate stimulation, and Yuuri notes that he’s nice and soft, if a bit plump, and he can get the cage on easily if he does it now.

“Time to get you nice and locked up, Victor,” Yuuri purrs, and Victor doesn’t say a single word, simply holds out the cage so Yuuri can put a little lube on it. He slips it on, perfectly meek and obedient. Yuuri clips on the tiny lock and shows Victor the keys, which he places on the table next to them.

Victor is already breathing hard, his body flushed from his chest to his ears, and Yuuri is so in tune with him that every twitch of Victor’s body has an answering flare of desire in Yuuri’s. He picks up the remote attached to the vibrator and flicks it on, making Victor archand gasp.

“Ah, fuuuu - thank you, sir,” he finally gets out, and Yuuri smirks, feeling a dark, slightly feral satisfaction at Victor’s tiny slip. He’s just getting started and Victor’s already a bit scattered.

Victor shifts against the lounge, the cage probably feeling a bit tight now, and Yuuri grins. This kind of controlled torture is hard for Victor, Yuuri knows, but Yuuri wants him to earn his marks – be proud of what it took to get them. Yuuri locks his wrists and ankles into the leather cuffs, and Victor arches his back and shivers.

“I’m going to be the best boy,” Victor whimpers, and Yuuri thumbs up the setting on the vibrator.

“Oh? Then tell me what you should do.”

Victor gasps and squirms. He knows he can’t thrash or yank heavily on the chains or they’ll break, which is the opposite of what he wants. Yuuri watches with glee as he clenches his fists, his toes curling under.

“You want me to c-come. Untouched. Sir. Oh god. So I can feel everything.”

Yuuri leans over him again, traces the tip of his tongue around the shell of Victor’s ear. “Very good,” he whispers. “That’s exactly what I want. You know me so well, my beauty. And what if you let this help you along?” Yuuri pulls the black-bladed knife from its resting place on the table, flashes the blade in front of Victor’s eyes, then slowly, carefully, lays the flat of it against Victor’s sternum. Victor’s eyes follow the blade, then slide shut as Yuuri lightly, carefully, drags the point down the skin of Victor’s chest. It leaves a faint white line behind, not breaking the skin at all, but Victor erupts in goosebumps. Yuuri’s heart is about to beat out of his chest, and he pulls the point up and around Victor’s nipple.

“What do you think?” he rasps, and lifts the blade well away from Victor’s body. The urge to press the blade right into his skin is strong, but if he has nothing else, he has patience. Soon, he thinks.

Victor takes a shaky breath. “I’m...I want…” he falters.

“Color?” Yuuri gently asks, a focal point in the swirling mist of arousal.

Victor’s eyes flash to his. “Green,” he says. “I’m sort of afraid, but it’s um. Good fear?”

“Yes, perfect. I only want to make you feel good. You belong to me, every part of you, understood?” Yuuri reaches down and tweaks the end of the vibrator, and Victor yelps, then whimpers.

“Yes, sir. I want to come, please. Please. I want to come so badly.”

“You can do it, Victor. You know you can. Just relax and feel it.” Yuuri drags the flat of the blade over Victor’s shoulder and down to his wrist, and lets the weight of it rest, heavily, on Victor’s hand.

Victor sighs, stretches his fingers, so Yuuri traces the top of his hand with the tip of the blade. “I think you’re so brave, Victor. You want me to do more than this, don’t you?”

“Yes. Want my reward. Please, sir. I’m trying so hard.” The little furrow is present between Victor’s eyebrows, and Yuuri wonders if he could use a little more pushing.

“Would it help if I fucked your mouth?”

Victor nods. “Yes, sir. I want it to be good for you too.”

Yuuri stands up and slips his pants off before climbing back over Victor’s chest this time. He balances on his knees and looks Victor full in the face. “Open.”

Victor looks up at Yuuri from under his eyelashes, a move that never fails to spark Yuuri’s arousal, his eyes so hungry and so beautifully trusting that Yuuri barely can stop himself from simply calling the scene right then by fucking Victor’s mouth to completion. He knows, though, that this isn’t just for him, so he holds his cock in place and pushes forward into Victor’s warm and waiting mouth, the familiar tongue curling around the flare of the head still as exciting as it was the very first time.

“Very nice,” Yuuri murmurs. “You’re being so good, Victor. Are you feeling at all close?” Yuuri looks at the remote and selects an undulating massage that should bring him to orgasm fairly soon. Coming untouched isn’t something Victor is made to do often but Yuuri knows he can with a little encouragement and a bit of help, and he does love watching Victor work for it.

Victor nods as he sucks Yuuri’s cock with long, deep pulls of his mouth. Yuuri carefully breathes through his nose and out through his mouth and focuses, careful to not let the sensation drag him toward orgasm much more quickly than he would like, determined to last until he can fuck Victor properly, fully, after the adrenaline of their scene settles into his bones and he gets what he’s been craving the last weeks, months, Victor’s blood smeared red across his porcelain skin.

Victor pulls off with a wet pop. “Sir, close, close, god, fuck, tell me something, please…”

_Oh_ , Victor needs a little encouragement, needs Yuuri to tell him what a good boy he is, make him shiver with the joy of submission and fall over the edge. Yuuri pushes his cock back into Victor’s mouth, wraps his hand in Victor’s hair and tugs.

“You’re so good to me, my beauty,” Yuuri says, and rolls his hips so Victor gets a hit at the back of his throat. “Such a good boy, so lovely, so perfect. I’ve never had anyone like you, never want anyone else.” Yuuri keeps fucking his mouth and keeps talking, the words rolling off his tongue like honey, like the sweetest kind of treasure he could offer this gorgeous man who he loves so much. It is so easy to want to make Victor happy, so fulfilling to bring him to the edge like this, balanced on the precipice, and only Yuuri can give him that final push over into mind-bending pleasure.

Victor gasps around Yuuri’s cock and arches, his body shuddering, and Yuuri burns with deep satisfaction as Victor twitches and moans under him. What a beautiful sight, Yuuri thinks, as he pulls away from Victor’s mouth, lips red and swollen, eyes half-closed with the aftermath of bliss

“You did it, my beauty,” Yuuri says, and quickly turns off the vibrator. He climbs off Victor’s body and unlocks the cage. Victor hisses as the pressure against his cock is released, and Yuuri inspects him carefully. Everything is pink and warm, so Yuuri turns his attention to the vibrator in his ass. He pulls that out and drops it in the wash basket, then climbs back on the lounge to kneel between Victor’s legs. It’s now or never, when Victor is glowing with the aftermath and endorphins of orgasm, and Yuuri slides the knife from the table and wills his heart to settle.

“Your reward, my beauty,” Yuuri says, and he can feel his body flush with heat. “Do you want it?”

Victor’s eyes open more fully, and he smiles and says the six words that they’d agreed on, six words written on a sheet of paper that give Yuuri all of the consent he asked for.

“Yes, sir. Please. Make me yours.”

Yuuri swallows past the lump in his throat as he swabs Victor’s hip with alcohol, inspects his blade carefully. His pulse thunders in his ears as he looks again at the expanse of milk-white skin over the curve of Victor’s hip, places the tip of the blade near the crest, and pauses.

It’s going to be too much, any moment now. Too much for him, too much for Victor, too much, too much, _too much_.

“Sir,” Victor says quietly. “I love you.”

Yuuri’s head snaps up to look at Victor’s face, his gentle, sweet smile. His encouraging, trusting nod. Yuuri grips his courage with both hands and slowly, carefully, presses until the skin just parts, a bright red drop welling up as he draws a tiny, perfect line.

“Oh,” Victor gasps, and throws his head back. “Stings.”

“Yes, my beauty,” Yuuri says, growing bolder. He draws a second line at an angle to the first, and Victor’s hips just barely flex, and to Yuuri’s astonishment, his cock seems to twitch, too. “You’re so gorgeous, and you’re doing so well. One more, okay?”

“Yeah,” Victor says, and he seems to go even more still than he was before. “Fuck. It's like...it's like I can feel you inside me. In my veins. In my heartbeat. Again. Please.”

Yuuri dabs the tiny rivulet of blood from the first two cuts and makes one more, completing a tiny, perfect “Y” over Victor’s hip. It’s astonishingly beautiful, the glimmer of blood under the lights an alluring, shining testament to Victor’s realness, his living, breathing self right under Yuuri’s hands, and suddenly his desire clicks into place.

“You’re really not a dream, are you?” Yuuri says, wondering, his thumb carefully wiping the blood away from the cuts as Victor watches with liquid eyes. “You’re here, right here with me. I can’t believe it some days.” Yuuri surges forward and kisses Victor, a smear of lips intermingled with tears and Yuuri’s gasping breaths. “You’re so real, and you’re here with me, trusting me like this, and I’m never going to let you go, my Victor. Never.”

Victor kisses him back fiercely, lovingly, then snarls when he tries, but can’t, wrap Yuuri in his arms. “Please, sir. Let me hold you. I’m begging. God, please.”

Yuuri nods, and unbuckles the cuffs from Victor’s wrists and ankles, feeling more and more that he needs Victor’s nearness, his strength and his devotion to keep Yuuri from simply collapsing from the tangle of emotions swirling in his head. Victor crushes Yuuri to his chest, his face buried in Yuuri’s neck.

“I will never, never love someone like I love you,” Victor says fiercely. “Never. I’m wearing you now. I _belong_ to you. I will do anything you want. Anything you need. I promise, sir.”

Yuuri pulls back and looks at him carefully. “Say my name,” he says, “When you promise me everything.”

“Yuuri,” Victor says, his voice barely a breath. “Yuuri. I promise. Everything. Always. I swear.”

Yuuri carefully cradles Victor’s face in his hands and kisses him, breathes everything he’s feeling, everything he’s hoping for, into that kiss. He can feel Victor’s hands around his back, traveling up and down his spine in a simple, loving caress, until Victor kisses his neck and slips his hands down over Yuuri’s ass.

“I want you,” Victor says, lips tickling Yuuri’s neck. “Please.”

Yuuri relishes the desire in Victor’s voice, the heavy beat of arousal coursing through his veins in response. He leans on his elbows and brushes Victor’s hair out of his eyes. He can feel the sticky press of blood between their hips, testament to the depth of their bond, and his responsibilities flare up in front of his eyes.

“I need to clean and dress your cuts,” Yuuri says, and draws back slightly. “They’re still bleeding.”

“I know. But please, I need you, sir. May I please have the rest of my reward, first?” Victor smiles and winds a leg around Yuuri’s hip and tries to pull him back in. Yuuri allows himself to settle in between Victor’s thighs, carefully avoiding putting too much weight on Victor’s left hip. His cock rests delicately at Victor’s entrance, a teasing touch that has Victor trying to roll his hips and take Yuuri in.

“You’re mean,” he complains, and the whine is a playful one, Yuuri knows. “I’m so ready.” He grinds against Yuuri again, his cock hard between them, and Yuuri finally takes pity and presses forward in one, long, slow push, Victor’s ass still wet with lube from the vibrator and open enough to accommodate him without much resistance. It’s heaven, hot and clenching and soft, and Yuuri shudders as he bottoms out, head spinning with how good it feels. Victor moans as Yuuri drags his lips across his clavicle, and Yuuri smiles against his skin.

“Not mean now, am I?” He says, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back inside, a move that Victor _loves_.

“No,” Victor whimpers. He curls his legs around Yuuri’s hips and tries to meet him halfway, their bodies working together in a perfect give and take of pleasure that has Yuuri seeing sparks behind his eyelids in the space of a heartbeat. He lets himself give into it, give into the pleasure building and building in his groin without even attempting to stop it, Victor’s hand on his own cock bumping against Yuuri’s stomach as he, too, tries to reach the peak. Yuuri snaps his hips harder, faster, until the slap of skin on skin and Victor’s heavy gasps are the only things he can hear; until pleasure shudders up from belly to brain and he comes, hard, into the warmth of Victor’s body.

Victor moans when he does, the feeling of Yuuri orgasming inside him usually pushing him to his own peak, and there, within just a few more strokes, Victor is coming, too, all over his stomach and chest. Yuuri pulls away slightly and looks down at the mess, Victor wincing a bit, the come on his stomach stained pink. Yuuri bites his lip and carefully disengages.

“I know it’s not much for afterglow but you need to be in the shower right now,” he says, and pulls a sated and smug Victor up from the lounge.

“Eh, I’ve skated with worse,” he replies, and lets Yuuri lead him to the shower and turn on the water. He leans against the glass door and watches Yuuri fiddle with the knobs and the shower settings with a dopey smile on his face, and Yuuri can’t keep the answering grin from his. He pulls Victor inside, kneels at his feet, and carefully, lovingly, washes the cuts that he made, a sign of their trust and devotion, Victor’s hand on his head the best kind of blessing.

………………………………………………………………………………...

“More wine?” Yuuri asks, holding the bottle above Victor’s glass. They’re cuddled in bed, a platter of fruit and sandwiches and snacks on their laps, and Yuuri’s big monitor playing an episode of The Good Place. Yuuri keeps pushing Victor to eat and fills his glass, and glances every few minutes at the white square of bandage taped over Victor’s hip. He feels a small ember of satisfaction glow in his chest every time he sees it, their connection marked, indelible, on Victor’s skin.

He feels no small measure of viciously possessive pride, too, the urge to strut and show off Victor’s marks to everyone sitting at the back of his mind. It’s ridiculously egocentric but the look on Adrian's face at Minako's party next month will be priceless.

“No, I should probably switch to water,” Victor says, and drains the last bit of wine from his glass. Yuuri watches his long, beautiful neck as he swallows.

“How are you feeling?” Yuuri asks, and cautiously traces a finger around the bandage. “I take it your throat is ok?”

Victor picks up Yuuri’s hand and kisses his fingertips. “I feel perfect. Really. I loved it, so don't worry, okay?”

Yuuri wiggles down the bed until he can prop his chin on Victors thigh, his vision completely filled by the bandage. He can't stop the urge to look, touch, know that it's real. “I know but... I just can't believe you let me.” He picks at a corner of the tape. “I wanna see again,” he whines.

“You're getting obsessed,” Victor laughs. “In a couple of months I’ll be living here, so you’ll be able to look at it any time you want.”

“I know, and just wait until I send you off to the rink fully bound under your clothes.” Yuuri looks up at him and winks.

Victor raises an eyebrow. “And we’ve not done that yet why, exactly?”

“Because I’m saving that for winter.” Yuuri kisses Victor’s thigh. “Please, please, please, let me see it again.”

Victor sighs dramatically, peels off a corner of the tape and lets Yuuri look his fill. The red etched “Y” on his skin stands out beautifully, and Yuuri shivers as he can feel himself getting turned on again. He sits up and slides the tray onto the bedside table, books and pens and bottles of lube scattering from the surface to bounce across the wood floor. Victor gasps dramatically, Yuuri’s reckless disregard for the stuff a bit of theatre, an obvious, almost comical mark of desperate desire.

“Don’t act like you don’t get off on this as much as I do.” Yuuri says, and slides back down to delicately lick at the head of Victor's cock, still soft but slowly filing.

Victor sighs and leans his head back against the pillow. “Yeah, you're right.” Victor reaches down and caresses Yuuri's cheek with his thumb. “Whatever am I going to do with you, Yuuri? Oh–”

Yuuri smirks as he hits a particularly good rhythm with his tongue, then pulls off. Victor lifts his head at the interruption and Yuuri, eyes locked with Victor's, kisses Victor’s hip.

“Just love me,” he says, heart so full it almost hurts.

Victor brushes Yuuri's bangs out of his eyes with a gentle, loving touch. “Always,” he replies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yuuri's double-edged knife, sharpened to a razor edge.](https://goo.gl/images/2Nwqde)   
>  [Victor's cock cage (NSFW)](https://malechastitydevices.us/male-chastity-devices/50-chastity-cock-cage.html)
> 
> This is the last chapter of Edge, but I will say I cut the original ending scene and put it in a new file called "Florentine: Forever" so. It's the song that never ends.

**Author's Note:**

> A Wartenberg wheel: https://goo.gl/images/XBDFoc


End file.
